


Begin Again

by misdanbe



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 29,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misdanbe/pseuds/misdanbe
Summary: When all that's left is who survived, you take what you can get. Even if the Dragonborn made some really weird friends.





	1. Advisor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION! This is the sequel to Void Dweller! If you are new, please go read that first!

The Jarl’s palace was long, grand, and warm. Servants milled around, brightly colored aprons and shirts and dresses swirling hypnotically around her eyes. Their faces did not reach her, but she wasn’t too entirely sure she wanted them to. The smell of baked bread and various other foods filled the hall, and it warmed her very bones. She decided then she liked Dragonsreach, and that as long as she wasn’t alone, this would be okay. The fireplaces lined in the center made the hall warmer, along with the adjoining kitchens opened doors. Nighttime settled behind the windows, marking the orange glow with its own midnight blue.  
The Jarl’s throne sat at the other end of the hall, and the man in it slightly slouched. His two advisors stood at his side, talking quietly, but the armored one's hands were clasped tightly.  
She felt her panic rise when she saw the Jarl sit up, and instinctively tightened her grip on her guardian’s sleeve. She looked up. Her guardian’s confident stride slowed minutely, and he smiled down at her for a brief second. Then his stern expression returned, and he continued walking.  
She felt the panic simmer down, and suddenly the heat in the room was less suffocating than it had become. A smile from Lucien was a rare and celebrated thing, but that was obviously a secret one. She had been trusted with his secret and she was determined not to fail him.

Upon approaching the Jarl, the advisors stood straight and shook his hand. The Jarl stood up himself and shook his hand, alarming her. She knew he was important, but if the Jarl stood up for him, whatever they were doing here was extremely important. This was exciting, but it made her nervous. She slid behind her guardian’s long robe, watching everything carefully.

Lucien spoke first, posture straight and tone low. “Please, we don’t need all the formalities. I am a friend, let’s get to the point.” He pointed his gaze at the Jarl, not impolitely.  
“Straightforward. I like it. Let’s go upstairs.” The Jarl smiled, and gestured to the staircase on their right.  
Lucien nodded curtly and made his way up the stairs, keeping his pace with hers. He had his hand around hers, which was usually a sign of something, and she looked curiously up at her guardian. His dark brown eyes were staring straight ahead.  
His first and third finger pressed lightly into the back of her hand. _Eyes._  
His middle finger pressed twice quickly. _Open._  
She squeezed his hand twice. _Received._  
He let go, and moved his hand up to his mouth. This time he looked at her from the corner of his eye, and made a small “shh” motion. She gave an imperceptible nod in response.  
So he wanted her to keep her eyes open, and draw little attention to herself. That was something she was good at.  
The upstairs portion of Dragonsreach had many large wooden doors connecting to one center room. A large table covered in a map took up most of the space, and various tacks were nailed into it. She looked for the symbol of Dragonsreach, right next to Whiterun’s city emblem. A red tack was nailed in between the space. _Imperial._  
The Jarl placed his hands on the table, looking around at her guardian and his advisors. He pulled out a jar of black and white tacks.  
“Black for dragon attack. White for none. First, Morthal.”  
He stuck a black tack down on a city emblem to the left of Whiterun’s.

The Jarl seemed like a nice enough man. She had met meaner people than him. He had shoulder length blonde hair pushed back by his circlet. The divisions between his locks of hair were wide, and the edge of his scalp had more dirt than any other part. His formalwear slipped off his shoulder slightly, and the large brooches holding up his cloak looked like they were a burden on him. She could see the freckles on his shoulder were closer together than the ones trailing down his arms. His green eyes looked worn out as they studied the map.  
She decided that she trusted the Jarl of Whiterun.

The map was covered in tacks within a few minutes, and she felt a little hope in seeing that there were more white tacks than black. Lucien watched the map next to her, not leaning on the table. His posture was still straight, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

“I have to admit, this would be easier with the Dragonborn. I hope her soul rests peacefully.”  
Lucien watched the table carefully. “I agree.”  
“So, do you know of any weapons that she had kept? Any dragon-worthy ones?”  
Lucien shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Weapons are useless without trained wielders.”  
The armored advisor nodded quickly, her red eyes narrowing. “That is something I can understand, how can I help?”

“First off. Gwendolyn was a fierce warrior, but she never fought alone. We need teams.”  
The Jarl turned to the armored advisor. “Irileth, get the court wizard. We need all hands on deck.” He bent toward the table, scrawling down Lucien’s directions, while Irileth darted down the stairs. She arrived with a man in blue robes, who easily slid into place at the table.  
“Second, diversity within the teams. One axe-wielding maniac isn’t going to cut it. We need swords, axes, daggers, staffs, magic. This is the war to end all wars.”  
The Jarl’s quill moved quickly and she could hear the scratches on the table. The veins on his hand were prominent as he moved, death grip on the pen.  
“Third, not every dragon is the same. We need different team members’ armor to defend against different things. I trust you can enchant, court wizard?”  
The blue-robed man nodded.  
“Fourth. Gwendolyn knew every fight was an uphill battle. There are enough dragons to surround every city we have, and we need to remember that. Bravery saves lives, overconfidence takes them.” He looked pointedly at Irileth. “Make sure your soldiers remember that.”  
She nodded solemnly, and Minette knew she understood from experience.  
Lucien looked down on the map. “As for the citizens, teach them how to hide. Cellars, underground, stone. Those are all important. Even if everyone carries around a shield, keep your people safe. We do not have a dragonborn to save us now. Let’s try to make her sacrifice worth it.”  
—  
It was late into night when they finally left Dragonsreach. The stairs were dark and shadowy as they descended, but they were wide and made of stone, so she did not fear them. The water next to the stairs ran into a pool, and the sound of its rushing soothed her nervous bones. The guards passed them with their torches, easily paying no mind.  
White pinpricks poked through the sky when she looked up, and when she looked back down, the city resembled it. Pinpricks of torches’ light did the same thing, shifting with the breeze.  
Lucien looked down at her, raising his eyebrow. “Any important observations?”  
She nodded. “I trust the Jarl. If we need a diplomat later on, I believe he may be a good mediator.” Minette thought about the small smiles he gave to his servants when they passed by. “He also works himself to the bone. Dirt and finger lines show he runs his hands through his hair a lot. He also isn't afraid of dirty work.”  
“Smart girl. Thank you, Minette. Are you hungry?”  
She nodded vigorously. Smelling all the food in the Jarl’s palace was torture.  
They made it to the Bannered Mare, and Lucien easily slid amongst the patrons, barely noticeable. He sat at a table in the corner, good viewing distance of the rest of the tavern. From his seat, he could see everything that happened, which was usually his preferred viewpoint. Minette was more focused on eating her soup.  
The tavern was a place she liked, but the patrons inside could be less than hospitable, and Lucien warned to not stray away. It was warm here, and the innkeeper liked them because they stayed out of trouble, but sometimes the rowdy men got too much ale and it was no longer safe. ‘As long as I can see you, you will be okay’ he said.  
“Lucien?”  
He looked up from swirling his soup spoon around. “Yes?”  
“Where are we going next?”  
He frowned. “Do you not like it here?”  
“No, no!” She shrugged. “I was just curious.”  
“We’re going to go home next.”  
“Really!?”  
“Mhmm.”  
“Yay! I miss home.”  
He chuckled. “Finish your soup, Minette.”  
She nodded. “If I finish really quickly, can you tell me a story about Mom before bed?”  
His expression turned soft, still stirring his soup. “Eat slowly, don't upset your stomach, then I’ll tell you a story.”  
“Yess! Thank you, Lucien!” Her grin was bright and wide.  
“Of course. Now,” He pointed to her bowl. “Eat.”


	2. Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucien dislikes being in this position. Very Much.

He ran a thumb over the journal’s cover. The carvings were delicate and worn, from loving use.  
Minette was wrapped up in a fur on the bed, very lightly snoring. He became suddenly aware of the noise in the tavern below them, the small hum of movement from the late night patrons around the fire. _I hope they won’t wake her up._  
He turned his chair to face the closed door, and picked up his journal. As soon as he opened the pages, a bottle shattered downstairs, and it was quiet. He narrowed his eyes, and set the book back down.  
The tavern stood still for a moment, and another bottle shattered.  
He flicked his eyes to Minette, who hadn’t moved, but her eyes were open. She looked to the closed door and back to him, eyes wide.  
He put his hand on his hilt, moving silently. “Don’t move.” He mouthed.  
She blinked twice quickly. _Received._  
It was still downstairs, and it sounded like everyone had froze. He stood in slow motion, drawing out his blade and standing in front of the door. Whatever came through there seeking to harm was going to find it first.  
He heard footsteps coming up the stairs hurriedly, and steadied his blade.  
3 fast knocks came on the door, and a nord’s voice rang from behind it.  
“Get to Dragonsreach! Dragon!!”  
Lucien felt the adrenaline seep in the room. He sheathed his blade and picked up the journal.  
“Minette, get up. Come on, let’s go.”  
She threw off the blanket and tripped into her shoes, eyes wide and watching his every move. He bent quickly and put his hands on her shoulders.  
“No matter what, stay behind me. Alright? Run.”  
She nodded fervently.  
—  
The streets were eerily quiet with the threat. In the night sky hovered a ominous shadow, wings spreading out from its form. It circled overhead, doing nothing but exist in the minds of the terrified citizens.  
Lucien’s footfalls were close and rapid, scaling the stairs up the the staircase. He didn’t turn around, but he could hear Minette’s a second behind him. Once they approached the door, he slid to a stop, and swiveled around. He tried to keep his voice level, but he knew she had seen through his facade.  
“Alright, Scout, once we get in here, find a hiding place. You understand? Hide. What should you look for?”  
Minette’s eyes were wide, but she nodded quickly. “Stone. Looking for stone.”  
“Good. Go!”  
They entered Dragonsreach, as the dragon swooped down and perched on the palace. Its jaw unhinged and a deep growl of a word reverberated through the air.  
 _“Dovahkiin.”_  
Lucien felt the vibrations go through his bones, and realized he recognized the voice. He sprinted to the Great Porch, on the other side of Dragonsreach, where he guessed they’d be. He was right, opening the doors and seeing the Jarl’s army with a hundred fiery arrows aimed towards the sky.   
“Hold your fire! HOLD YOUR FIRE!”  
The shadow loomed overhead, circling the landing platform. In the light of the fires, its red scales became more obvious. He was right.  
He ran to the platform’s edge. _You want Gwendolyn? Get in line._  
Turning to the Jarl’s men, he shouted at the ones who still held arrows.  
“You all hear one dragon speak in your entire lifetimes and you still can’t recognize the voice? Lower. Your. WEAPONS.”  
They hesitantly lowered them. Whether or not they understood or they were just afraid of him, he didn’t know. He didn’t care.

_Gwendolyn stood at the forefront of the army. Her arms were at her sides, closed into fists, but her posture radiated confidence. She shouted into the sky, thu’um echoing like waves across the air.  
“Odahviing!”  
Within minutes, they heard the swish of the wings in the air._

He tightened his fists at his sides. “Odahviing!”

The growl came easily, passing through his ribcage.

“You, are not dovahkiin. Bring me what I ask for.”

He dug his nails into his hands. “I am as good as you’re going to get.”

Odahviing landed heavily on the platform. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “Where...is she?”  
Lucien was silent.  
“Did she…? No. No.” Odahviing backed up.  
“Why did you come here? You seek her for a reason. What is it?”  
“I bring news. I come here to warn the dovahkiin of Alduin’s followers. They are planning something. But if she is gone...we stand no chance.”  
“If we do not fight, her sacrifice was for nothing.”  
Odahviing gave a slight nod. “Oh, I will still fight. I just do not think we will win. I will still fight.”  
Lucien turned to the hesitant army. “We have a new ally.”  
—


	3. Storyteller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad Boy Hours

“Minette? It’s safe, where are you?”  
He saw her head emerge out from the underside of a counter. She slowly moved out from under it, smoothing out her dress and coming forward.  
“Are you okay? You're not hurt?”  
"I’m okay. What happened? Is it gone?”  
“He was looking for your mom. He’s one of her friends, and he’s with us now. It’s safe.”  
She wrung her hands. “I guess if Mama trusted him, I do too.”  
He gave a small smile.  
“Where are we going now?” Her voice was more curious than fearful.  
“Home.”  
—  
The ride from Whiterun to Falkreath was, compared to others, a very pleasant one. The two holds’ climate were far warmer than Skyrim’s usual weather, and even nighttime was barely a cool breeze. The carriage bumped along the road quietly into a green forest, meaning they were getting close.  
Minette was braiding her short hair, watching the forest ahead of them grow nearer. She wore a dark green blanket scarf over her shoulders that was slightly too big for her, but she loved it anyways.  
Lucien watched her for a moment, and returned to his journal.

_Dear Gwendolyn,_

_Whoever you trusted, people trust now. I have to admit, I am not used to so many people trusting me. I’m not exactly a good man._  
He chuckled.  
 _Entering rooms you used to be, I think back to you. These people trust in you, and I could never hope to fill your shoes. I never really wanted to, but I believe in you more than anything. Even if you aren’t here, my service is still to you, dear Listener, and if it means saving the world you cared so much for, then so be it.  
Even with my efforts, diplomacy was always your strong suit._

_P.S. By diplomacy, I mean being nice. How you managed this, I will never understand._

_Lucien_

Leaving the page open to dry, he stared for a moment at her name. He gave a heavy sigh, setting the book next to him and putting his face in his hands. Propping his elbows on his knees, he sat for a minute before looking up at the stars.  
 _If I close my eyes hard enough, and focus on the sound of the wheels, then maybe you won’t be gone when I open them._  
He opened his eyes, coming face to face with the pinpricks of light.  
 _But you always are._

“Lucien?” Minette’s pale blue eyes were still visible in the near darkness.  
“Yes?”  
She looked at him, before looking up at the stars as he had before.  
“Do you miss Mama?”  
“More than anything, child.”

She nodded solemnly, still watching the sky. “I think she misses you too.”  
“Hmm?”  
“Wherever she is, I think she wishes you were there.”

He smiled sadly. _What a twisted turn of fate. You give me my life back, and I have to live it without you._

“Lucien, I have a deal to make.”  
He chuckled. “Cryptic. Continue.”  
“You know I love stories about Mama, but I think you might need them more than I do.”  
“Oh?”  
“So if you tell me a story about you, then I’ll tell you a story about Mama. Deal?”  
He sighed, leaning forward. “Truly your mother’s child, persuasive one. Deal.”  
She smiled brightly, scooting over to be in front of him and crossing her knees. “You go first!”  
“What kind of story would you like to hear?”  
“Hmm. Oh, I know! What were you like before you met Mama?”  
He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. “I was...solitary.”  
“Soli...tary?”  
“It means I spent a lot of time alone. Like Solitude up on its hill.”  
She nodded suddenly. “Oh, okay. Go on!”  
“I spent my life on my job. I took it very seriously, and brought other people into my family. I spent my time with th-”  
“You had a family?”  
“Of sorts. Like Serana is part of your family. We all worked together. We... were very close.”

“Are you part of my family?”

He glanced down at her. “Do you want me to be?”  
“Absolutely!””  
He laughed. “Then yes, I suppose I am.”  
“Good. Go on!”  
“I was closest to someone I had recruited. She worked for me, but we were close friends. She was loyal and fierce and a formidable fighter. Remind you of anyone?”  
“Mama?”  
“Correct. Even to the end, she stuck with me. The last time I saw her, I was bleeding out, and she ran in like it was her life on the line instead of mine. Your mother reminded me of her as soon as I met her.”  
“Was she your best friend?”  
“Absolutely. I trusted no one more.”  
“And Mama?”  
“I trusted your mother with everything. I still do. Even now, she has my life in the palm of her hand, and I gave it to her. She was definitely...my best friend.”  
“Lucien, when did you know you trusted Mama?”  
“I trusted her when I first met her, because she was Listener. It was my job to follow her and devote my service to keep her safe. However...However, I knew I’d trusted her more than she’d ever know when she took her first arrow for me. Your mother was brave without hesitation, or second thought. She stepped in front of an arrow for a ghost. I couldn’t even die.”  
“She took an arrow for you?”  
“Many. Even against my will, she did it again and again. In my past life, I thought people who did that were foolish, but your mother was no fool. She knew what she was doing, and she knew the risks. She watched the balance tilt in her favor and always took her shot. Your mother knew what she was capable of, and she didn't exactly care about my thoughts on the issue at the time.” He smiled lightly. “I don't like arrows that much anymore.”  
She laughed. “Alright, I think it’s my turn.”  
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”  
“Do you know the first time I and my siblings decided we trusted you?”  
“I’d never thought about it. Tell me.”  
“When Mom first introduced us to you, she had this look in her eyes that I can’t describe. It was like suddenly she had the power to take on the world, and we all saw it. When Mama first learned she was Dragonborn, she was terrified.”  
He raised his eyebrow. “Truly?”  
“Oh, absolutely. She was exhausted, read books all night, and wrote notes to learn about her own prophecy. It ate her up. When she brought you home, it was a switch. Suddenly, she knew someone out there had her back, and she was ready. If Mom knew she could lean on you in her time of need, we decided that we trusted you too. We knew you would take care of her.”   
He was silent.  
“And I think she thought you were cute.”  
His laughter erupted over the forest. “Valuable information. Thank you, Minette. I like your stories better than mine.”  
She rubbed her eyes and giggled. “I have more, but can they wait? I hope we’re almost home.”  
“We are, child, we are. Almost.”


	4. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not a smooth idea to threaten the dragonborn's children. Just a thought.

Approaching the house, Lucien stepped forward and knocked on the door. One short knock, one long, and two more short.  
From inside the house, he heard the muttering of two children.  
“They’re home!” Light footsteps sounded towards the door.  
“Wait! Do we know it’s them?”  
“Francois, they did the knock. Of course it’s them.”  
“What if they’re being forced? They could be hostages and the captors are going to get us next!”  
“Like Lucien would ever get captured.”  
The male child hesitated for a second. “Alright, open the door. I can shout for the others if it turns out to be bandits.”  
“It’s not BANDITS, Francois. Help me with the lock.”  
Minette cast a glance at her guardian. He rolled his eyes, but smiled playfully. The door eventually opened, and they came eye to eye with Runa and Francois, both grinning.  
“Welcome home guys!” Runa hugged her sister and elbowed her brother. “Not bandits.”  
Lucien laughed, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I admire your caution. Now.”  
Runa grimaced. “Uh oh.”  
“Why are you two up? Do you know what hour it is?” He suddenly looked stern, lowering his eyebrows at both of them. “Well?”  
Francois smiled sheepishly. “We’re...nocturnal?”  
“Do I need to have a talk with Serana? Is she teaching you bad habits?” He looked annoyed, but it faltered. He cracked a smile. “You guys need to get some sleep tonight at least. We have a busy day tomorrow. Go to bed. Go on. Don’t make me ask again.”  
The nervous children suddenly relaxed. “Goodnight Lucien."  
“Goodnight children.”  
Minette’s siblings disappeared into their large room, tiptoeing. Lucien turned to the last child left, meeting her eyes as she covered up a yawn.  
“You too, Scout.”  
She nodded, smiling tiredly. “G’night Lucien.”  
“Sleep well, child.”  
“Mmyou too.” She pulled her blanket around her shoulders, trudging into the dark room. _Her sleep did get interrupted by the whole dragon dilemma. Not exactly a smooth night for any of us._  
He sighed, moving towards the stairs. The house was dark and quiet, aside from the light leaking out of the front hall’s doors. He estimated it was around 2am at this point, but the house wasn’t cold yet. The fireplace had recently been put out, then. He chuckled. _Kids._  
Walking into the room, he lit the candle on the end table, and sat on the bed, opening his journal.

_Dear Gwendolyn,_

_Your children have your sleeping habits._

_Lucien_  
—  
Downstairs, the children’s room was largely undisturbed.  
Slowly, and silently, the window slid open. No children noticed, as they were on the verge of sleep or already deep into it. A shadowy figure slid into the room, light glinting off their mask. Their robes swayed against the wind as they hit the floor. They drew their blade cautiously.  
The first to notice was Minette.  
She froze in place, not wanting to give herself away. The intruder slid into the center of the room. The moonlight through the window lit up the edges of their figure enough for her to tell, and she held back her panic. Suddenly, she remembered her mother, all that time ago.

Gwendolyn’s fingers lightly traced over the edges of the mask. Its edges splayed out like tentacles, but it was cream white and polished, unlike anything she’d ever encountered. She had recently removed it off her surprise attacker, who didn’t have a use for it anymore. From behind her, Lucien raised his eyebrow at the letter she had also taken.   
“Looks like they work for someone who’s out to get you. Something about you being a false Dragonborn. They obviously haven’t seen the whole soul-absorbing thing.” He laughed, handing her the note.  
She nodded thoughtfully. “Cultists. How fun. Minette, sweetie, can you put this on the bookshelf?”  
Minette looked up from her stitches and nodded with a smile, taking the mask and trailing off into the library.   
“Thank you, dear.” Her mother smiled at her, and turned back to the note in her hand.

Minette watched the light glide off the edges of the masks, wrapping around its sharp protrusions. Whatever this intruder was doing here, they weren’t friendly to her mother and they most likely wouldn’t be friendly to her.  
She tried to control her breathing, tried to calm down and think rationally, but the intruder and their weapon moved towards a bed and she felt her nervousness building. They were moving purposefully and raising their weapon and the sight of the moon on the edge of it threw her heart into a frenzy. She did the only thing she knew would have an effect.  
She screamed.  
At the top her lungs and with as much power she could pour into it, she sat up in her bed, stared straight at the intruder, and screamed.  
All at once, she heard her siblings’ bodies jolt under their blankets. The masked intruder swiveled their head towards her, almost jumping in surprise. The child whom they were hovering over was Francois, practicing mage, and he fired a terrified half-ready fireball into their side. His face was twisted into shock, but he held the flames in a semi-steady hand.  
The intruder backed into the center of the room, pierced by 6 sets of eyes. They swiveled their head around, holding their side, and watched the door to the bedroom in either shock or fear.  
Runa slid out of her bed, furthest to the wall, and shut the window quickly. Her hands were pressed tight on the latch, and her face was white with terror, but she glared fiercely at the intruder, spitting with a voice laced in venom. “You're dead now, sucker.”  
The intruder’s eyes flicked from her to the doorway.  
The door was mysteriously open, and in the shadows of the dining room’s darkness, was a faint outline of someone they preferred to have avoided.  
Lucien stepped into the room, blade drawn and at his side.  
He kept his eyes locked and narrowed onto his target, but spoke to the children.   
“Is everyone alright?”  
They all looked at each other, and Minette answered for them. “We’re okay.”  
“Good. Now, Kitchen. Go.”  
They fled silently out of the door into the kitchen, and he didn’t speak again until he heard the door shut. His voice was deep and soaked with hatred.  
“How dare you?”  
The cultist’s stance was defensive. “We seek the false Dragonborn.”  
“You will not find her here.”  
“Tell me her location.”  
“Why would I?”  
“Where is she?”  
“You will not find her anywhere.”  
The cultist hesitated for a second. “Wherever she’s hiding-”  
“She’s dead.” He tightened his grip on his dagger.  
The cultist looked taken aback. “She’s...We have succeeded?”  
He growled. “No. She kept the mask of your sentry as her trophy.”  
They regained their composure. “I have no quarrel with you then. Let me leave.”  
“You threaten my children in the dead of night and you think I will let you leave?"  
They backed up closer to the window, and turned to open it, but Lucien threw his dagger, piercing the intruder’s spine. They gasped, quickly collapsing, fingers dragging on the window. Lucien strided forward, ripping his dagger out and lifting the cultist up by the neck.  
“The only reason. The. Only. Reason. I will leave you alive. Is so you can be a warning to the others. Do you understand me?”  
The cultist was gasping in pain, but vehemently nodded.  
“Get. Out.”  
Lucien threw the bleeding cultist out the window, wiping the blood off his hands. He slammed the window shut.  
The door behind him slowly creaked open, and Minette stuck her head through the door.  
“Is it...safe?”  
Lucien sighed, turning around. “Yes, it's safe. Safe enough.” He knelt down, coming face to face with her. “Are you alright?”  
She shifted through the door. She was trying to calm down, but he still could tell she was shaking. “I'm okay now. Thanks, Lucien.”  
He nodded. “Always, Scout. Was it you who screamed?”  
“Yeah…I’m sorry.”  
“Don't doubt yourself. That was a smart move. You made sure your siblings didn't get hurt.”  
She grinned sheepishly. “So you're not mad? That I woke you up?”  
 _I would've had to been asleep for that._  
He chuckled. “No, of course I'm not mad. You are always allowed to call for help, alright?”  
“Always?”  
For a moment, he looked into bright yellow eyes instead of pale blue, but they returned as quick as they'd come.  
“Always.”  
Minette smiled, but it suddenly fell when she looked around the room. “Wait, where'd they go?”  
“They...left. Go back to bed, child.”


	5. Deal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucien accidentally has some thoughts. Serana climbs through a window.

_Dear Gwendolyn,_

_A merciful assassin? Maybe you rubbed off on me more than I thought._

_Lucien_

Closing the book, he chuckled to himself in the candlelight. The house was now completely silent, but for the crackling of the small fire. Breathing in the silence, he cleared his thoughts and shut his eyes.   
In the quiet of the room, light footsteps padded against the wood of the floor, before it paused, jumping onto the mattress. He felt the bed bend towards the entity, and opened his eyes. He gave a tired smile, meeting the yellow eyes in the dark.  
“Hello, come to keep me company?”  
The cat purred, leisurely moving to the pillow and laying down. Its black fur outlined its figure against the white.

_“Lucien?” Gwendolyn called from the hallway.  
“Yes, Listener?” He shut his book, glancing up as she leaned in the doorway.  
Her brow was knitted into worry. “Have you seen Sunny anywhere? I can’t find him.”  
“As a matter of fact, I have.” He smiled, lifting up the blanket next to him and revealing the sleeping cat, wrapped up in itself.  
Her worry was replaced with a grin. “Ah! There you are!” She tiptoed into the room, scooping up the cat and kissing its forehead. “How is my little ball of darkness? Huh? How are you, cutie?” She cooed. The cat didn’t seem to mind the attention, just relaxed in her hold. Lucien watched her dance gently around the room with him, knowing his smile was less than subtle.  
The morning sun shined through the bedroom window, casting its light on her hair as she swayed around, like she herself was glowing. She twirled round from the far side of the bed to him, giggling and lowering herself to his eye level._

Lucien grimaced, grip tightening on the binding of his journal.“Stop it. Stop it. Move on. She’s not here, move on.”

_“Lucien, you’re doing that face again.”  
He chuckled. “What face?”  
“The face you make when I do something cheesy. The ‘I can’t believe I have to protect this idiot’ look.”  
“That is not what that face means, Listener.”  
“Are you sure? Because I think that’s what goes through your head on a daily basis.”  
“Do you want to know what it actually means?”_

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

_She raised an eyebrow playfully. “If it's more rude than my guess, then I don't want to know.”  
“It’s not, I promise. Come here.”  
She leaned forward, curious eyes matching that of the cat underneath her._

“Stop.”

_“It means I love you, Listener. You and all your cheesy antics.”_

“Stop it.”

_Her grin turned soft. “Aww, Lucien. Who knew you were such a romantic?” She leaned up, pressing their foreheads together.  
“Only to you.”  
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”  
“Always?”  
She winked. “Always.”_

Lucien grit his teeth and drew his knees into his chest. “Stop it, stop it, stop it, STOP.”

_“The kids are gonna be up soon, I should go downstairs.”  
“Why?”  
“They need to eat, Luc.”  
“So? They know how to cook, they’ll live.”  
“Hmm, persuasive argument.”  
“I learned it from you. Stay here.”  
“How do I know they won’t burn the house down?”  
“Sit with me, and if it comes to that, then we’ll smell the smoke.”  
“I must’ve taught you well, because I’m convinced.” She laughed, hopping over his legs to the other side of the bed. “They’ll live. Tell me a story, Lucien.”_

He buried his face in his hands, angrily swiping at his eyes.

The window suddenly slid open. “Lucien.”

He let his hands fall to his sides, just blankly staring into space. His voice sounded empty, devoid of all emotion. “Serana? What’re you…?”

She stuck her head through the bedroom window, elbows holding herself onto the windowsill. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on a time limit. Answer this question as efficiently and honestly as you can.”

He nodded solemnly. In the distance, he thought he heard an angry man shout, or maybe several, and the sound of a torch crackling, but he couldn’t make himself care. Her ponytail swung when she looked in the direction of the irritated locals.

“Lucien-“

_I’m so sorry._

“-What would you do to save her?”

He met her eyes, scolding himself for his weakness.

“Anything.”

They looked at each other in silent agreement for a moment.

“That’s what I thought. Meet me tomorrow night. Back of the tavern. It’s important, but for now it’ll wait. I eagerly await our appointment, Ghost.”

And with that, she disappeared back into the night.


	6. Mutually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olva and Lucien have a chat. A friend shows up. Lucien gets exposed as a big dork.

Falkreath was mostly populated in the early afternoons, when children came out to enjoy the weather and adults came to browse the merchants’ wares and share the latest town’s gossip.  
Lucien was mostly a welcome sight among the townspeople, if not amusing in addition. He was always a quiet and solemn man dressed in black, almost constantly surrounded by his rowdy companions, but unaffected by them all the same. His expression and demeanor would remain neutral, only shifting if talking to one of his devotees. The children may have been energetic, but they were always polite, and kept a good reputation among the locals. They roamed around Lucien like a curious force field.  
He approached Olva’s booth. She noticed him, and smiled in his direction.  
“Hello phantom!” She grinned.  
He smiled in return. “Hello Olva. How are you?”  
“Same as always.” She turned her gaze to the crowd of people. “Old and rickety. You look like you’ve seen better days. Bad night?”  
He didn’t answer. She nodded in understanding.  
“No sleep, or nightmares?”  
He chuckled darkly. “Some malicious mix of both.”  
She nodded again. “Yeah, me too. My latest was about zombies breaking down my door.”  
He frowned. “I don’t like to think about zombies.”  
“Says the former ghost, but yeah. Something we can both agree on.” Something in the crowd caught her attention, and she suddenly grinned. “Oh! Let me introduce you to someone!” She waved her hand over, drawing in a young woman carrying a basket of fruits. “Varna! Come here!”  
She looked shy, but obeyed and smiled at both of them. “Hello Olva. Hello…?”  
He held out his hand. “Lucien Lachance.”  
“Hello Lucien.”  
Olva grinned at the woman. “He’s a…” She raised her eyebrow at him. “...friend, of Gwendolyn’s.”  
The woman’s face changed to pleasant surprise. “Oh! She was a lovely woman, I owe much to her!" Her smile faded. " I am sorry for your loss.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “If I may ask, how did you two know each other?”  
“She... uh…. How do I word this?”  
Suddenly, Lucien smiled mischievously. “I have a feeling I know what she did. Who?”  
She exhaled, relieved. “My husband.”  
“Did he deserve it?”  
“Definitely.”  
“Good.”  
Olva flicked her eyes in between them, smirking. “Varna, she might’ve mentioned him to you, but you don’t recognize him.” She grinned wider once she knew she had his, albeit cautious, attention. She noticed he became slightly defensive in stance.  
“Our friend here used to be a ghost.”  
Varna looked at Olva in amused surprise, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Oh? I have heard of you!”  
Lucien watched her carefully.  
“All good things, don’t worry. She spoke...very highly of you.”  
“I would...hope so.”  
Olva’s grin was contagious to the younger woman. “She spoke of you highly, and _often._ ”  
He glanced between them, maintaining his composure with a thread. “Good to know. Is there any other vague information I should know before I go rally up my small companions?”  
They giggled like schoolchildren. “No, you go ahead!”  
As he walked away, Olva held up her hand. “If I don’t see the kids before you leave, you will feel my wrath!”  
He chuckled. “Noted.”  
“You hear me, Lachance? Let me see them!”  
He nodded in amused acknowledgement and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Varna turned, covering her childish grin with her hand. “Did he ‘speak of her highly’ too?”  
Olva cackled. “Oh yeah, they were mutually head over heels.”

Lucien came into view, offering a smile to a child attached to his sleeve. The kid was grinning and dragging him to a booth, where their sibling eagerly jumped at something on the table. Even in the chatter, the girls could hear the high-pitched “please?”. The man only chuckled in return.

Varna watched him for a second, before turning to the old woman. Olva smiled knowingly.  
“Before you ask, yes, those are her kids.”


	7. Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serana has a bad idea.

The tavern was as most taverns are late in the night. The fire was the centerpiece of the lively space and bartenders darted around to the chatty patrons. Even just entering, the atmosphere felt safer than outside.  
Varna and Olva talked animatedly at a table near the elder’s usual spot, the corner. They smiled when Lucien and company entered the establishment, waving him over.  
“Hello again, girls.”  
“Hello phantom!” Olva chuckled. “I see my threat convinced you.” She patted the forehead of an approaching child, who grinned at her and eagerly ran away. “Hello kiddo!”  
Lucien chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Like they weren’t asking me where you were all afternoon.”  
“Aww, I love them too!”  
He rolled his eyes. “I have to ask a favor.”  
“Whatever it is, of course.”  
His polite smile turned to mischief. “You know me better than to trust me like that.”  
“Ooo, you’re right. I’ll do most things for you. No illegal things, alright?”  
“Oh darn. Maybe I don’t need a favor.” He laughed. “I’m kidding. Can you keep watch of my- _them_ for a little bit? I need to talk to someone outside.”  
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not being an accomplice, am I?”  
“Depends on what my friend has to say.” He shrugged casually.  
She groaned. “Oh jeez. Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me. I’ll make sure they don’t get into trouble.”  
“Thank you, Olva.”  
He turned to the general direction of the scattered children.  
“Stay near Olva!” His voice was commanding throughout the room, and every kid’s head turned. Each tiny head nodded and returned to their previous activities.  
He seemed satisfied, and walked back outside.  
—  
The tavern’s lights shined through the windows, casting yellow squares onto the grass. The night was nothing more than a light breeze, and it calmed his nerves a little bit.  
“Psst. Ghost. Over here.”  
He rolled his eyes and walked to the back of the tavern wall. “I’m more alive than you are.”  
“Fair point. Anyways.”  
“Yes, tell me what you had to pop in my window for.”  
“I have a plan that I’m pretty sure will work.”  
“Alright. Vague, but alright. What is...the goal?”

The night’s breeze whistled past their ears for a second, settling into her uneasy hesitation.

“Save Gwendolyn."

...

“W-what?”

She held up her hands in defense. “I know how it sounds, I know, I know, hear me out.”  
He chuckled in disbelief. “Not sure what else I’m supposed to do?”  
“My mother had a lab dedicated to souls and stuff like that, and I’ve been reading up.”  
“We are not performing _necromancy_ on my Listener.”  
“No, no, that’s not what I meant!”  
“I was joking, Serana.”  
“Well hush! Anyways, it involves kind of….putting her soul back in her body?”  
He stared at her, dumbfounded. “Neither of which we have? This plan is shaky at best.”

She fidgeted with her sleeve, yellow eyes flicking off into the darkness. “I uh… I don’t know how to phrase this but uh…”

“Oh no.”

“I...have her body.”

For a moment, they stared at each other in silence.

“You _WHAT?”_


	8. Tavern Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucien has another memory and Serana says "lmao mood"

_Gwendolyn entered the room, hand hovering over something dark on her forearm. She noticed him sitting in the corner, and tried to shift her body away, but he had already seen.  
“Hiiiii.”  
“Listener, are you alright?”  
She grimaced and yanked a long white piece of cloth out of her bag. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”   
“People that are fine don’t need bandages.”  
“Observant as always, dear.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.  
“Let me see.”  
“Noooo thanks.”  
“Listener.” His voice sounded like a warning.  
She faked an innocent smile. “Yeeeees?”  
“What happened?”  
“Well,” She chuckled exasperatedly. “Y’see, I did something dumb, and then I got the consequences, and now my blood is coming out.”  
“Let me help you then.”  
“Mm,” She began wrapping the cloth around her cut. “Nope.”  
He stood up and started walking towards her, but she immediately sprinted out of the room, bandage trailing behind her. To her dismay, he only stood where he was and picked up the other end of the bandage. She flicked her eyes over her shoulder and smiled evilly, but it fell quickly when she reached the end of the line.  
“Lucieeeen let go!”  
“As a wise woman once said, ‘Mm, nope.’”  
She yanked her arm, watching the cloth pull frustratedly. After a second, Lucien started pulling his end of the bandage towards himself, slowly dragging her back into the room. Her feet shifted, pushing against the wood of the floor.  
“You may be stubborn and strong, Lucien, but I am stubborn and fast!” She swiftly drew her blade and sliced through the remaining bandage, turning on her heel and sprinting out.  
He groaned, dropping the cloth and picking up his pace towards her.   
“Listeneeeer, please.”  
Her laughter trailed after her as she hopped out the front door and into the shadowy forest. The retreating circles of yellow taunted him as she fled. _

Serana’s yellow eyes sent him into his mind, but her voice brought him back out.  
“Hey ghost, you alright?”  
He shook his head of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. Do you mind explaining yourself?”  
“I was going to, but you were elsewhere for the time being. I would’ve thought you were paralyzed if you didn’t whisper ‘listener’ under your breath.”  
“Oh…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Forgive me. Continue.”  
“I get those too.”  
“Huh?”  
“The memories. Something reminds you of her, and you relive it for a minute.”  
“You do?”  
"What was that one? Just now?”  
“She refused to let me see an injury. Was stubborn enough to run into the forest at night just to evade me.”  
“Good. My plan hinges on her will to live, so let’s hope she kept it. Stubborn girl...”  
“I’m sure she did, but I still don’t know what your questionable plan actually is. Or why you have her _body_.”  
“You remember when she...came back? From Sovngarde?”

They were silent for a second. 

Serana shook her head. “I shouldn’t have asked that. We all do.”  
“It’s alright.”  
“...Have you talked to Cicero recently?”  
“It’s been about a week. He visits once in while, but sticks near the Night Mother. He still has the nightmares…”  
“Maybe my plan will help him too.”  
“If it means helping the Listener, he’d want to be involved.”  
“Oh trust me, we are going to get a LOT of people involved.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped in her tracks.

Lucien tilted his head. “Everything alright?”  
“Did you hear that?”  
“Hear what?”  
“Oh no.”  
“Hear what?”  
“Lucien, did you come here with the kids?”

The dragon’s roar echoed through the tree’s branches, and reverberated in Lucien’s ribcage.

Serana’s breath caught in her throat. “Get them. Now.”


	9. Chapter 9

The two split up quickly, Serana running to the guard’s tower and Lucien running to alert the tavern dwellers. Both entered their respective establishments, heart racing as they shouted.

_Listener._

_Her ponytail swung behind her, long and black and glowing around the edges with her torches light. She swiveled her head around, yelling orders to citizens in the night._  
_“Get into your cellars! Cover your heads! Get underground! GO!”_  
_Her boots on the stone pounded quickly like a warning bell. Shoulders squared back, and dagger held out to her side, she emanated confidence and pure, unadulterated malice._  
_He followed behind her, matching her pace and keeping an eye on the night sky. The whistle of the air above their heads took a minute for him to process, but she turned on her heel as if on cue._  
_The dragon landed heavily in the middle of the road, voice rumbling. “Dovahkiiiiiiin.”_  
_Gwendolyn quickly yanked him behind her, using her entire body to shield him and lowering her stance into something sinister._  
_“Leave.” Even offering peace, she was drawing her blade and readying her voice._  
_The dragon’s throat burned and boiled as it unhinged its jaw, but she was faster. She turned, bringing up a magic ward to block both of them. The second where they were face-to-face, he saw the look in her eyes._  
_“Take cover.”_  
_He nodded and darted off towards an alleyway, watching the flames. From his position, he watched the ward drop, and her face her opponent. She had sheathed her dagger, and her hands were splayed out behind her as she brought out her power._  
_Little cracks of fire appeared on her throat, lava bubbling into her veins. The trails of fire grew into her face, until finally her flames had reached her eyes and boiled. Any iris or pupil was lost in the lava. Only fire remained._

_“YOL TOOR SHUL!”_

_The dragon’s breath now burst from her, stunning the dragon._

Lucien blinked, and she was gone. He shook his head quickly, addressing the now-stunned citizens in front of him.

“Get in your cellars! Cover your heads! Get underground! GO!”

They shot up into action, the ones with weapons moving forward to aid in the fight, and everyone else darting towards the tavern’s basement. He caught Olva’s eye, who was ushering the children towards the basement door. She nodded, in an “I’ve got this” motion, and disappeared. He nodded in response and drew his blade.

The walls shook with another roar.  
—  
Serana’s heart was still, and had been for as long as she could remember, but there was a moment of silence where she questioned it. The silence followed the thump of dirt and claw outside.  
The ground shook when the dragon landed, and she didn’t have to see it to know.  
The silence seeped into her ancient bones, and for a moment she felt the foreign pulse of a heart in her chest. Putting her fingers to her neck, there was still nothing. _As always._  
The fearful heartbeat of a vampire. How odd.  
For a second, she felt the wrist of someone else, lightly gripped in her hand, despite the fact she held nothing. Slowly, she fell into her mind, her memory solidifying in the space behind her eyes.

_Gwendolyn looked up at her, hair falling over her eyes in the morning light._  
_“Serana? What time is it?”_  
_“It’s morning, I don’t know.” She smiled lightly._  
_Gwen lifted her hand, curiously looking at Serana’s fingers on her veins. “Making sure I’m still alive?”_  
_She chuckled. “I’m a loyal member of the “Keep Gwen Alive” team.”_  
_“That’s adorable. But really, you watching me sleep?”_  
_“Not by my own accord.”_  
_“Huh?”_  
_Serana snickered again. “Your ghost had to leave the room to help Cicero, and apparently you being alone while sleeping is not something he likes. He asked me to stay in here while he was out.”_  
_“He asked you to check my pulse while I was sleeping? I might need to ask him some questions…” She grinned._  
_“Nah, he just asked me to keep watch. I felt your pulse because it feels funny. Squish, squish, squish.”_  
_Gwendolyn laughed. “Fair enough.”_

The silence dissipated out of her, as reality faded back in. She felt the phantom wrist leave her fingertips, but the rhythm of the heartbeat stayed with her. It echoed in the background of her thoughts like drums.  
_If you can grant me your heart, dear sister, I pray you grant me your courage as well._

She drew her blade and left the guards’ tower.


	10. Chapter 10

She exited with the guards at about the same time Lucien left the tavern, leading a group of skittish warriors. The look in their eyes held fear, but the grip on their axes was determination. Their groups combined, and faced the road, weapons drawn.

The dragon seemed to be waiting for its opponents. It hadn’t attacked, but she could tell its intent was malicious. The glint in its eye suggested nothing but amusement and confidence. It knew it would win this fight.

Lucien and Serana stood in front of the group, ready to lead if it came to battle. For now, they were the Dragonborn’s Advisors, and they would treat their title as such. There was no fear in them, and their own power diminished the fear of the citizens behind them.

The dragon spoke, low voice rippling the air itself.  
“You have no dovahkiin to save you, and yet you still face me. Why not flee?”  
Serana answered first. “You have no dovahkiin to fight you, and yet you still attack.”  
“Ah, you speak with the wisdom of centuries, dead one. Pity, your days end here.” His eyes narrowed at the citizens behind them. “But you. Why do you fight in vain? Your beloved Dragonborn is not here to save you.”

A citizen straightened his shoulders and growled at the dragon. His arms raised his battle axe, and he looked furiously into his opponent’s eyes. If Lucien remembered properly, this man was the same one Gwendolyn had pulled from the river, all that time ago. He seemed to believe in himself now, and the others rallied behind him.

“She may not be here to kill you, but she taught us that you could _die.”_

The man gave a battle-cry, sprinting towards the dragon with his ax readied, and swung it towards the dragon’s eye. The citizens quickly followed after him, raising their weapons and not stopping their barrage until they themselves were stained with blood.  
—  
_Gwendolyn walked leisurely along the road, sticking a flower in her braid, and smiling at her companion._  
_Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Nightshade?”_  
_“As opposed to?”_  
_He laughed. “Truly a worthy Listener, to use modes of death as decoration.”_  
_She grinned, took a dramatic bow, and continued walking._  
_The river ran somewhere close to the road they walked, he could tell. Its constant rushing water never left the background noise, and he only truly noticed it when its rhythm was interrupted._  
_Gwendolyn stopped abruptly. “Did you hear that?” Her head swiveled towards the direction of the river. “Was that a person?”_  
_He looked cautiously at the water in the distance. “I think so…”_  
_“Stay with me.” She darted off towards the sound._  
_As they neared closer, she saw that down the river, a head bobbed up and down, but it didn’t seem to be struggling against the current. Someone had apparently jumped from the lumber mill. Lucien watched as she brought up her hands without hesitation, magic swirling around her hands. From the color of it, he guessed the spell was telekinesis. He had seen her practice it at home, bringing books from the shelves to set them on her desk without getting up. She’d occasionally use it to toss him books when she saw he’d finished the one he was on. Her skill wasn’t too high with this one, but she still looked determined to try._  
_He also knew that if it didn’t work, she’d jump in the river herself, so he prepared for that too._  
_Gwendolyn focused her hands and mind on the head, and slowly the man started going against the current, drifting towards her. Her hands shook with magic and concentration, and as soon as he was close enough, she dropped her hands and quickly reached for him, catching the back of his collar._ br /> _The man coughed out water when he was finally dragged onto the land._  
_“Put me back in. Please.”_  
_Gwendolyn was kneeling next to his body, and her worry turned to concern. “What? No. Roll over, get the water out.”_  
_When he made no motion to move, she put her hands on the large man’s arm, and shoved hard so he rolled over. He finally propped himself off the ground, and coughed out more water. “Why won’t you let me die?”_  
_“I answered that question. Come on, stand up. You’ve got better places to be than the bottom of a river.”_  
_Lucien watched her stand and offer a hand to the man, even though he was probably twice her size._

“Hey, shadow man, you alright?”  
The same man looked at him now with big curious eyes.  
Lucien wiped a bloody hand down in his face, realizing too late. “Yeah, I’m fine. Living partially in the past, that’s all.”  
“Hey man, we’ve all been there. Have a drink.” The large man offered him a flagon, filled with something surely alcoholic.  
“I appreciate the gesture, but no thanks.”  
“Not a drinker?”  
He sighed tiredly. “Not really. Too much to risk.”  
“That’s alright. Here.” He slid another flagon over that smelled less like metal.  
_Milk._ “Thanks.”  
The man opened his mouth to speak again, but Lucien’s attention was turned to the child running to him.  
“Minette? Everything alright?”  
She tiredly whispered something in his ear, and he chuckled, nodding. Without a word, she slid under the table and hid behind his legs.  
Lucien held a finger to his mouth, smiling at the man, and continuing their conversation.  
“Were you going to say something?”  
“I was going to ask you a question. It’s been bugging me since the fight.”  
“Alright?”  
“I’ve seen you from somewhere. Do we know each other?”  
“I was with-Hello Runa.”  
The child bounced up to him, yanking on his sleeve. “Have you seen Minette?”  
He shook his head, neutral expression. “Not recently.”  
“Alright, see ya!” She ran back into the crowds.  
A moment of silence passed before Lucien bent under the table. “It’s safe.”  
The tired girl slid out and into the seat next to him. She put her head on the table and was out like a light.  
Lucien chuckled, talking quieter. “As I was saying, I was with Gwendolyn the day she pulled you from the river.”  
“The Dragonborn? Was that her name?”  
“What? Oh, yes. It was.”  
The man seemed thoughtful, rolling the sound out on his tongue. “Gwen-do-lyn. Hmm.”  
The men were silent for a moment, before Lucien set down his flagon and looked curiously at the man.  
“I meant to ask you, why did you fight? Out there? I am sworn to her, but you aren't. You could've lost your life.”  
The man shrugged, but the weight was obviously on his shoulders. “She gave me my life back, and then gave her life for me again. For all of us. How do you repay someone like that? Wouldn't you fight for someone who handed you a second chance?”  
Lucien chuckled darkly. “Absolutely.” _You have no idea._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Background Note: Lucien, Serana, and Cicero have the title of "Advisor" and are slightly feared by the populace because they were with Gwen the most. They are assumed to know what to do in place of her. Because everyone is (rightfully!) scared of the dragonborn, most people are scared of Lucien because he's an advisor, and because Lucien by himself is just a pretty terrifying person.

_Dear Gwendolyn,_

_I have never met an assassin whose saved so many lives. While in my past, I would have thought this was weakness, it might just end up being your advantage. With so many people in debt to you, they’re exactly what I need if I am to save you. Kill 100 to save me, save 100 to save you.  
Also, Sunny keeps stealing my bookmarks. He’s learned this behavior from you, I know it._

_Lucien_

He looked up briefly from his book to see Serana stumbling over to him.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Wha..? Oh yeah mm..fine.” She slurred her words together. “I need ta….ask a faaavor.”  
“Serana, are you drunk?”  
“Mmmyes.”  
He sighed heavily, and set his book down on the table. “What do you need?”  
“I haven’t drank aaaanything but…….y'know…...for while now. So I gotta…..gotta get used to this.” She gave a wild hand gesture to herself.  
He gave his best disappointed glare. “Where do I come in on this?”  
“Well I gotta….a fan. Real starstruck.” She spat that word with disgust. “And my magic is a little...iffy...right now.” To display, she brought up her hands, and showed the sparks fizzling from them. “He’s...he’s...I just can’t fight back, Lucy.”  
His glare shifted from her to the bar. “Alright, I’ve got it. Can you sit down and stay there?” She plopped down into the chair next to him, obviously a mixture of exhaustion and intoxication. Her lopsided smile was amusing at least.  
“Thaaanks Lucy.”  
“Please, stop calling me that.”  
“Okie dokie, ghost.”  
“That’s not even...never mind.”  
“You’re a real paaaal.”  
“How much did you drink?”  
“Enougggh.” Her head fell onto the table with a thunk.  
Lucien rolled his eyes and patted her shoulder, mumbling to the unresponsive vampire.  
“If he wants to harass an advisor, he’s gonna meet the wrong one.”  
He strided through the chatty crowds of the celebrating tavern with ease. The bar was near the other side, and it wasn’t hard to figure out which one was the perpetrator.  
A nord with red, braided hair sat on a stool, attempting to charm another two girls. They were very obviously not interested, but the man was persistent, and smelled of strong alcohol even from his distance.  
Lucien casually walked up to the bar, onto the other side of the drunkard, and slid a finger around his mug. He then grinned, tossing it onto the floor.  
The man was startled by the glass shattering, and the whole crowd turned to see the commotion. His face shifted from confusion to anger in seconds, but Lucien only smiled sweetly.  
“Problem, sir?”  
“Uh, YEAH. Why’d ya go and do that for?”  
Lucien shrugged. “You’ve had enough.”  
“I’LL decide when I’ve had enough.” The nord glared.  
Lucien pointed to the glass on the floor, still smiling. “I think I already did.”  
“Hey man, you got a problem?”  
“I have many of those.”  
“You trying to start a fight?”  
“Depends, sir.” Lucien’s polite smile shifted to something dark that only the shadows could teach, and the fear showed briefly on the man’s face. It was quickly replaced with foolish bravado, but Lucien knew it was still there. “Do you want to fight?”

A few whispers from the stunned crowd floated through the air. Things that amused Lucien like “Is that guy stupid?” and “Is he actually gonna fight the advisor?”

Lucien laughed, drew his knife and stuck it quickly in the man’s ribs. The man’s hands quickly flew to his wound, and he stared in shock at the blood pouring out.  
He twisted the knife. “Not much of a fight if you don’t fight back, huh?”  
Wiping the bloody dagger on his side, Lucien returned to his table. The crowd slowly closed in to cautiously help the nord on the floor, but no one made a motion towards him.

_P.S. I think these people will help you out of admiration, but they’ll help me out of fear._


	12. Chapter 12

The Dawnstar sanctuary was...quiet.

Usually Cicero was with the Night Mother at all hours of the day, but Nazir had finally convinced him to sleep. Without his joke-telling or incessant singing, the sanctuary was eerily quiet. He wasn't going to admit it, but he had gotten used to the noise.

Nazir drummed his fingers on the table, sorting through contract papers and various reports from the scouts. An initiate stirred the pot of stew in the corner, glancing over their shoulder.  
“One spoon or two?”  
Nazir didn’t look up. “Two.”

The silence was usually comforting, but tonight it just felt like something was coming, and the tension idly sat in the air. From behind him, a door scratched open, and Babette emerged from the hallway. “Hey. ‘S too quiet.”  
He nodded. “It is. I’m a fan of quiet time, but it’s empty in here.”  
“Read me your most interesting report. I need some noise.”  
Nazir chuckled, shuffling through his papers, and pulling one out. “I haven’t fully read through this one, but it’s marked urgent so it has to have something worth the time.”  
Babette rested her chin on her hands. “Oo. Maybe a fun new target.”  
“Says it’s from the forests near Riften. Apparently they stalked some bandits, and while they were in the forest they…”  
“Yeah?”  
Nazir scanned the paper hurriedly, but did not answer.  
“Hey, Nazir. Fill me in.”  
“Babette, they heard….shouting.”  
The vampire felt mildly irritated. “So? They’re bandits. They’re loud, it’s a given.”  
“No, Babette.” He slid the paper across the table, pointing to the word. “Capital S.”  
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”  
“They heard Shouting.” Nazir’s face was a mixture of confusion and awe. “And the bandits never came back.”  
They both stared at the paper in realization.

“Where is the…?”  
“It’s in the forest.”  
“Specifically?”  
“There.”  
“Oh. Oh boy.”  
“What do we do?”

Nazir dragged his hands down his face. “Wake up Cicero. We have a message to send.”  
—  
The sun’s light came through the windows, waking up the remaining of the household. The yellow dusted over the wood and warmed up the night’s chill, making the house feel more like a home with its life.  
Serana stirred the boiling pot with the ladle, groggily rubbing her eyes of the night’s activities. This whole rhythm was off. _I should be going to bed at this time, not waking up. I'm never having kids._  
The front hall of the house was decorated like a small house to itself. It had a cooking pot and fire, a double bed, a table and chairs, and a chest. The door facing her led to the dining room and the rest of the house, while the door behind her was the front door. Facing away from the front door made her uneasy, like she was vulnerable, and she wondered if Gwen felt the same way. She wondered if Gwendolyn lived in this part of the house while building the rest.   
She heard tiny footsteps closing in on the dining room door, and a pleading meow.  
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” She cracked the door, and the cat slid through.  
“Hi kitten.”  
Meow.  
“You need something?”  
No meow.  
“Alright, just come to hang out? I won’t say no to company.”  
Sunny wormed his way onto the table, and stretched out, knocking over a plate. He looked at it, then looked up at her nonchalantly.  
“You’re spoiled, you know that?” She put the plate on a chair, rolling her eyes.  
Lucien nudged open the door. “Are you talking to the cat?”  
“Tell your cat he’s spoiled.”  
He chuckled. “He knows. Trust me, he knows.”  
“Hey ghost, look at me.”  
Lucien quizzically turned.  
“How much sleep did you get?”  
He waved her off and sat down. “Enough.”  
“That is a wide range for you, my friend.”  
“I said I got enough. Now, what’re you making?”  
“Soup.”  
“Is that all anyone knows how to make?”  
“What else am I supposed to make in a pot?”  
Lucien grumbled. “We have a kitchen.”  
“Where every ingredient either doesn’t have a label or is written in dovahzul. Not interested.”  
He shrugged. “Fine. What’s in this one? None of your favorite ingredient, I hope.”  
“I wouldn’t poison the kids, Lucien.”  
“Would you poison me?”  
“Hmm. Debatable.”  
“ _Ouch._ ”  
Serana laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m sure if I hurt you, Gwen would haunt me.”  
“You would deserve it.” Lucien smiled evilly.  
“Don’t try to frame me, you morbid phantom.”  
They only laughed, and Lucien watched the cat in idle interest.  
Suddenly, the cat’s ears perked up, and he swiveled his head towards the front door. His yellow eyes focused, but Lucien still heard nothing.  
“Serana, I think we have company.”  
“Huh?” She turned, and saw the cat watching the door with cautious curiosity. Both adults watched the cat, and jumped when the knocks came on the door. 10 knocks in rapid succession.  
Lucien would’ve asked who, but he didn’t get the chance.  
Cicero’s voice rang from outside the door. “Delivery! I have a message from Nazir! Hello?”  
Lucien got up quickly and went to the door. “Cicero?”  
The door swung open, and he was greeted by a crushing hug and a red-headed jester.  
Lucien coughed. “Happy to see you too, Cicero.”  
“Cicero has not seen you for a while! No! he has NOT!” He let go. “But, more important things at hand. A message from Nazir!” The jester’s grin spread as he handed over a folded paper.  
Lucien cautiously took it. “Nazir hasn’t ever sent me a message before.”  
“Nazir has never sent ANYONE a message before.” The grin did not falter.  
He nervously chuckled. “Even more ominous.” Opening the paper, the first thing he saw was the red-inked ‘URGENT’. “Oh, a scout’s report?”  
Serana set the ladle on the table, approaching the two assassins. “What’s it say? Why’s it urgent?”  
“It’s from north of Riften.”  
She frowned. “Isn’t that where…?”  
Lucien’s eyes widened. “Yes. It’s...exactly there.”  
Cicero grinned. “I smell an adventure coming on. Or is that soup?”


	13. Chapter 13

Serana put her hands down on the table.

“Alright, here’s what I’ve got. Ask your questions after.”  
Cicero raised his hand. “But what if-”  
“Cicero.”  
He lowered his hand. “Sorry.”

“Alright, so after Sovngarde, I bit Gwendolyn.”  
Lucien started to talk, but fell back into his seat, silent. His expression was less than pleased.  
“I did it for her own good. She still….she’s still gone, but she had the curse before she did. It’s gonna be why this works. If you’ll remember, I don’t have a heartbeat. She doesn’t right now either. That’s one step we can skip. I also don’t need a whole much of blood, while you guys definitely do. A hole in the stomach is problematic to keep her blood in. Another step we can, well, we can slightly dodge that part.”  
Lucien raised his hand.  
“Yes?”  
“If she was a vampire, shouldn’t she have survived?”  
Serana looked down at her hands, frowning. “Too much blood, too fast.”  
He nodded curtly. “Understood. Continue.”

She started to back up. “So because part of her was pulling back, it sort of….well it sort of ripped her spirit into pieces. Soul stuff is weird. So this means half of her is still in her body, or really with her body. From my mother's research, this means that there’s another part of her spirit somewhere, but it’s not fully her. It’s a shell of her with a few basic things to remember. The part with her body has everything else, not being used currently.”  
Lucien cocked his head. “So we have a body and two halves of a soul? How do you plan on stitching them together?”  
Her brow furrowed. “Since one is already in her, thank the nine, we only need to force the other one back in, and she’ll supposedly wake up.”  
Cicero rubbed his nose. “I have so many questions.”  
Lucien nodded in agreement. “How do you force a soul to do anything? And isn’t her body still….doesn’t she still have a hole? We can’t bring her back so she can die again.”  
Serana held up her hands in defense. “About the wound, I have her suspended and healing. I couldn’t hire a healer because magic wouldn’t recognize her as living, so she’s surrounded by soul gems. She doesn’t have a stomach problem anymore. About the soul half…I needed to find it.” She pointed to the scout report.

“And I think we know where she is now.”

A moment of silence passed.  
Lucien stared at the location. “Her tomb. But why would her spirit be there, if her body isn’t?”  
“It’s the tomb of the Dragonborn, and nobody outside of this room knows that there's nothing in that coffin. That means people like bandits are trying to get into it. I’m not sure why Gwendolyn protects it, but she most definitely is.”  
“So? How do we force her back into her body?”  
“You’re not gonna like this.”  
He groaned. “None of this sounds good, just tell me.”  
“Remember how I said we had to get a lot of people involved?”  
“Sacrifices?”  
“No, Lucien. We have to fight her.”  
Cicero held his hands up. “We would never hurt the Listener. Never ever.”  
Lucien leaned forward, propping his arms on the table. “I have to agree with Cicero. That's the complete opposite of our job.”  
Serana’s face hardened into determination. “No, actually. Your job is to keep her alive.”  
Lucien glared. “Excuse me?”  
“If hurting her once meant bringing her back to life, are you telling me you wouldn’t do it?”  
He was silent.  
“None of us could’ve went to Sovngarde with her. Nothing that happened there could’ve been prevented by us. We all were supposed to protect her. We all followed her because we loved her, Lucien. Now we have a shot to bring her back. Are you going with me, or not?”  
He glared at his hands, while the jester and the vampire watched him carefully. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

She nodded, exhaling. “Good. Cicero?”  
Cicero nodded vehemently. “Anywhere the Listener goes, I follow.”  
“Good. Now. None of us are a match for her AND all of the traps littered around that place. She most likely won’t recognize us, so she will pull no punches, and walking in there will be a death sentence. Whatever she’s defending, it’s the more important objective to her.” She pulled a list out her pocket.   
“So we’re gonna need to build an army.”


	14. Chapter 14

_She had been out for a while, and the sun had long since disappeared over the horizon. The more time that passed, the more he found himself watching the front door.  
“She’s more capable than you are, she’ll be fine.” He chastised himself out loud.  
Even so, his thoughts still wandered to her when he wasn’t paying attention.  
The kids were asleep, and had been for a while, thanks to Cicero. The jester absolutely adored reading the kids books until they were out.   
Meanwhile, Lucien read his own book, propped up on the spare bed in the front hall. He had read this one already, and he liked it, but the words mixed up on the page. He couldn’t focus.  
He groaned. “Where is she, Sunny?”  
The cat on the pillow only looked at him disinterestedly.  
He shook his head, mentally scolding himself. She’s fine. Looking at the book again, he tried focusing on the page. Sentence after sentence, then he drifted away again.  
Lucien suddenly shut the book, stood up, and stuck it on the table. He marched towards the front door and had his hand on the door handle when 2 knocks came. He swung it open before the third knock could sound.  
Gwendolyn stood, hand still hovering over the absent door. Her eyes were half closed, rain slicked back her hair, and mud was splattered up to her knees. She gave a half-smile.  
“Lucien…”  
“Listener! I was starting to-”  
“I’m gonna fall.”  
“Huh?”  
She started falling forward, but Lucien quickly caught her. He slid one arm under her knees and started backing into the house.  
“Listener, are you okay?”  
She opened her eyes, smiling weakly. “I am now.” She winked.  
He chuckled, setting her down on the bed. “Stay here, I’m getting a towel.”  
She stared up at the ceiling, giggling. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
He came back with a bowl of water and a rag, setting them down on the end table and pulling over a chair. “Can you sit up?”  
She pushed herself up, propping herself up on the wall. “I can lean.”   
“I can work with that. Now, do you mind telling me why you were gone so long?”  
She popped off her bracers and pushed off her mud-covered boots. Both fell onto the ground with a metal thunk. “You’re not gonna believe me.”  
He frowned. “Of course I would.”  
“No seriously. I barely believe me.” She popped off her chest plate, heaving a big sigh.  
He set down the rag and looked at her. “Tell me.”  
“If you insist. Two dragons.”  
His eyes widened. “In the rain? Alone?!”  
She sighed, exhausted. “Yeah. Told you you wouldn’t believe me.”  
“No, Listener, I believe you! I’m just surprised you made it BACK!” He was definitely concerned now, deep brown eyes scanning her face wildly. “I should’ve come with you!”  
She shook her head. “Lucien, I’m the one that told you to stay.”  
He was holding her hand now, very lightly squeezing. “Listener, if something happened to you while I wasn’t there, I would never forgive myself.”  
“I made it back, love. You don’t have to worry about me yet.”  
He was silent, losing his frown. Suddenly, he was mischievously grinning, and inching towards her. “What’d you call me?”  
She snickered. “Uh oh, I’ve seen that smile before.”_  
Lucien glared at the dusty book on the end table. He slid open the drawer and threw it in, slamming it shut.  
Serana raised an eyebrow. “Hey, uh, you ready to go?”  
“Yes.”  
“Alright. We’ll head to Falkreath first. Find Olva, see if she’ll help. Where’s Cicero?”  
He glared at his feet, hand balled up into fists at his sides. “He’s outside.”  
“Are you okay, Lucien?”  
“I’m fine, let’s go.”  
—  
Olva’s booth was at the same spot, and she leaned against it exactly like she had been before. It felt like deja vu, but really he knew that Olva just had a routine. She was animatedly talking to Varna, before she saw them approaching and pointed them out. Her grin looked genuinely happy, and Lucien smiled partially. For once, this happiness did not reside in the past.  
“Ah, How is my favorite team of dragon-slayers? Long time no see, my dears! Except for you, Lucien, I saw you yesterday, but you’re always a welcome face.”  
He chuckled. “I appreciate it, Olva.”  
“So, as much as I love seeing my favorite people,” Olva patted Varna’s arm. “Including you, my dear,” She raised her eyebrow. “Why are all of you here? Whatever you've heard, I didn't do it.”  
Serana stepped forward, into the shade of the booth’s awning. “We are on a mission, and need your assistance.”  
“Straight to the point! I like it. Let’s hear it.”  
“We’re going to build an army of people who are loyal to Gwendolyn. I can’t tell you why yet, but it’s important.”  
Olva’s eyes widened, but she didn’t look shocked. “Alright. You’ve got 2 already now.” Varna smiled, nodding in agreement.  
Lucien smiled. “Thank you. If you guys know anyone who’d be willing, either talk to them or send them to us.”  
Serana nodded, absentmindedly pulling her hood over her face. “Or if you’d like to come now. I’d like to get inside.”  
“And I’ll take any excuse to get off work. Let’s go.”  
—  
(Song: “Little One” Detroit: Become Human OST)  
The sun fell lower and lower, giving the horizon a fiery glow. The forest felt warmer in the evening, but the children knew its warmth would only last until the death of dusk. Once the moons came up, it would grow cold and dark, and that was their curfew. Until then, however, they were free to play outside, and play they would.  
The children’s favorite game to play in the evening was torch tag. One would hold the torch, and try to scout out everyone else among the trees. If a hider was found, they had little time to sprint away, but the children were always evenly matched. Any passerby could hear the giggles and shrieks of happy children, and their playfulness seemed to change the demeanor of the entire forest.  
Today, Knud held the torch and sprinted along the pathways, sliding in between branches and hopping over underbrush. He had seen his hunting partner in a tree, and she had hurriedly hopped from branch to branch in the canopy. If he could just reach the right tree in time, he could catch her, but every vine seemed to want to pull him back. She may have been stealthy, but he was the faster one, and soon he saw his gaining advantage.  
Suddenly, the trees cleared for just a moment, capturing his attention. They had parted slightly enough to show the blooming sunset, and for a moment he forgot his current task. He stared out into the horizon, watching the yellows turn to oranges, to reds, and finally purple, giving way to the deepening night. The torch in his hand seemed so far away, as he forgot everything but the colors and the sky among their forest. He stood there until the sun finally faded, and the stars twinkled above them.  
The branches had stopped rustling above him, meaning that his sister had stopped running. Either she was watching the sunset with him, or curious as to why the chase had ended. He gave a big sigh, turning and gazing into the canopy. She peered down from her perch, partially hidden, the green of her dress mixing with the green of the leaves surrounding her. If they hadn't trained together, he wouldn't have even known where to look.  
He began to speak, but he watched his sister’s eyes widen at something behind him, and just as quickly, a hand clamped over his mouth. It was cold, and pale white, and the nails were sharp. With its touch, fear shot into his heart, and he immediately grabbed the arm, struggling.  
The malicious voice spoke behind him. “Struggle and I’ll eat you right here.”  
He stopped moving, tears springing to his eyes.   
“Good child, now comply.”  
Runa’s eyes wildly scanned his attacker and him, and quickly her hands emerged from the leaves.  
Palm out. _Stay._  
Finger to the lips. _Quiet._  
And she disappeared from sight.  
\--  
The lair was cold and wet. The walls were covered in moss and blood, and its smell sickened him, but he kept his mouth shut. They had stuck him in a corner, not even bothering to bind him. Tears were already streaming from his eyes, and he didn’t try to wipe them away. He had bigger problems.  
“Are you not going to tie up the kid?”  
The vampire at the table scoffed. “Oh please, like he’s gonna try anything. Look at him, he’s pitiful.”  
The other vampire stood at the pot, stirring something terrible. They remained silent.  
Knud stared at the ground, trying to think of anything else. He had thought about trying his way out, but he wasn’t armed, and the only weapon he trusted himself with was sitting on the other side of his kidnappers.  
 _Think of anything else. Think of something else. Remember what Runa said. Stay quiet. Remember Runa. Think of her. Focus on something else._

The smell of copper filled the room and he gagged. The metallic smell of boiling blood was disturbingly familiar, and it sent him into his thoughts, pulling him away from his trauma.

_The dragon’s roar echoed through the bones of Falkreath’s buildings. Fire reigned everywhere, and suddenly he heard the crack of wood as the wall began to crumble. His wild eyes searched for his sister in the flames, and he saw the flick of her blonde hair in the distance.  
“Runa!”  
Her head turned, soot and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Knud? Knud!” She hopped over a beam and sprinted towards him. He coughed out smoke, reaching out to her and gratefully grabbing her hand.  
“Where’s-” He coughed again, giving up and using his other hand to flash a sign. Exit.  
She pulled her dress over her nose and pointed to his right. There, he saw the glimmer of the stars against the glow of the flames, and they quickly headed towards their glimpse of hope.  
The wall he had been hiding behind quickly crumbled as soon as they made it out.  
The siblings emerged, covered in ash and soot and coughing out their lungs. They held onto each other for dear life, and sprinted into the night. Someone had to be here somewhere._

The vampire was looking at him now. “How long do you think he’ll last? A week, maybe?” Their yellow eyes peered into him, burrowing holes into his ribcage. Their grin matched their demeanor. Sharp and unwelcoming.

_Yellow eyes peered among the wreckage of the building, and his heart leapt as soon as Runa pointed them out.  
“Mom! MOM!”  
Gwendolyn quickly focused on them, darting forward. She pushed through a broken beam, reaching out her hand. The siblings were crouched in the rubble of a store, cautiously awaiting help, as the building’s remains surrounded them. As soon as she pulled them out, she bent down and enveloped them both.  
“Oh thank the divines, I’m so happy you guys are okay. You are okay, right?! Are you guys hurt?!”  
Runa and Knud looked at each other, tears streaming down their faces. Runa choked on her words, burying her face in her mother’s hair.  
“We’re-we’re okay.”  
Gwendolyn tightened her grip. “Oh sweethearts it’s alright. I would never let anything happen to you.”  
Knud wiped his tears away with his sleeve, until his mother wiped the soot out his eyes.  
“I’ll always be here for you, okay? Never doubt that.”_

Knud had audibly begun crying in the lair now.  
He missed his sister, he wanted his mom’s words to be true, and he did not want to be in here. He did not want to be in here at all, and he knew he was going to die. His sister would not make it in time, and he would die.  
No one was here to save him this time.  
His sadness turned to hatred, boiling up inside of him like the blood inside their pot. The bow next to the fireplace had a quiver next to it, and looked small enough for him to use.  
If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to go quietly.

Knud darted toward the fireplace, sliding underneath the vampire’s table.

“Wha- get him!” The vampire at the table stood up, turning towards him, but not fast enough. Knud had already pulled an arrow and picked up the bow. He dipped the tip in the flames, and slid it into place. He would have seemed more like a threat if his shoulders didn't shake with sobs, but the vampires still hesitated to move.

“Let me out! Let me out! Let me OUT!” He screamed.

The small figure in the cave entrance grinned. A little girl’s voice echoed throughout the walls.

“You should really listen to him.”

The vampires turned frantically towards the voice. Although the figure was partially covered in shadow, there were two things immediately noticeable.  
One, the light glinted off the child’s grin, highlighting the fangs.  
Two, the part of the child’s dress that was visible, was decorated with various shades of blood spatter.  
Knud did not recognize this girl, but the yellow eyes gave it away. As long as she was defending him, she was the one in this room with a fighting chance. Vampire versus Vampire.

The fight was short-lived. The unchild tore through them like paper, leaving nothing but scraps behind. They were barely recognizable as humanoids when she was finished.  
She turned, wiping blood off her cheek and offering her hand to Knud.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Babette.”  
He shakily put down the bow, returning the gesture. “Do I know you?”  
She shook her head. “Nah, but I’m a friend of your mom’s. Let’s head back to your house, huh? Unless you like it here.”  
He vehemently shook his head.  
“That’s what I thought.”  
\--  
The walk home was quiet, until he nervously broke the silence.  
“So why’re you in Falkreath?”  
She shrugged, snickering. “Always wanted to join an army someday.”


	15. Chapter 15

“So we’re really doing this, huh.” Nazir sighed.

The dining room table had been cleared off, maps and lists and inkwells strewn about. Something about its logical clutter made Serana smile. _I think you’d approve, sis._  
He was folding the corner of the scout report, sitting on the corner of the table. “You’re sure this is going to work?”  
Lucien chuckled, shaking his head. “Far from sure. There is no guarantee.”  
“And you’re still willing to go through with this?” Nazir raised an eyebrow, but Serana responded for him.  
“And if she does come back, would you like to tell her why you weren’t at the gate?”  
Babette laughed. “Oo, she got you. She got you, Nazir.”  
Nazir rolled his eyes. “Quiet. The adults are speaking.”  
“You’re gonna pull that card? Wooow.”  
“Quiet, unchild! And if this spirals out of control, and we end up making a worse mistake?”  
Lucien frowned. “This is our best shot. Whether we make a mistake or do nothing, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who she is to us individually.”  
“He’s right.” Olva stood up, crossing her arms. “While she may be something important to you all, she is first and foremost Dragonborn. We can't fight dragons by ourselves. No army of ours can fight every single one. We need her back so she can save us all.”

“Again.”

Lucien was the first to turn towards the door. “Minette, what are you doing up?”  
She rubbed her eyes. “None of you went to get the door, so I did. Someone here to see you.”  
He gave the room a glance. “Friend or foe?”  
She shrugged. “To me, or to you?”

The figure entered the room. “Lachance.”  
He sighed. “Lydia.”  
“You look well. Since I've last seen you.”  
“Last time you saw me, I was not alive.”  
“It's why I said it.”  
Lucien simply turned back to the room. “Everyone, meet the housecarl of Whiterun. Lydia.”  
She gave a half wave.

Serana coughed awkwardly, continuing. “Alright, well. As I was saying, we need to gather more support for this. First, anyone willing to fight needs to know what they're up against. You might be able to anticipate a fireball, but can you anticipate a Shout? Can you keep your wits about you in a room with the most powerful opponent you know of? Exactly, moving on.”  
Lucien took over, leaning over a map. “Also remember that this is more important than any other mission you might have. If you don't want to die of dragons, this is how we fight that. If anyone expresses disinterest in this course of action, send them to me.” He set his dagger on the table, glancing up. “I will take care of them.”  
Lydia frowned. “I can't condone the murder of civilians.”  
He pointed towards the door. “Then get out of my house.”  
She did not respond.

Serana picked a list off the table. “I have a list of people who might feel like they owe Gwen a favor, but it isn't everyone. Not even Lucien has been with her every minute of the day, and she was a busy woman. If you know anyone who might help, tell us. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

_“LUCIEN!”  
He ran into the room, sliding on the wood floor. “What’s wrong?! LISTENER?!”  
She held a piece of paper in her hands, marked with different shouts she had learned over time. But that wasn’t what concerned him.  
She floated above the ground, a familiar shade of blue. Her own glowing eyes stared at her feet in delight, and he couldn’t figure out why. His face was a mixture of dread and confusion.  
“I’m not a ghost, don’t worry. Not yet.”  
“I...What...Is that-?”  
“It’s a shout I learned. Become ethereal. Nothing can hurt me.”  
He breathed out. “Could you start off with that next time?”  
“Sorry,” She chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Suddenly, she popped back into existence, landing lightly on her feet. The piece of paper in her hand fluttered with the wind of the landing. “I’m keeping track of what each shout does. That one will come in handy. This list is now fully updated!”  
He nodded wearily. “Good job, Listener. That explains the sound of yelling.”  
She laughed. “Sorry. Just practicing.” Turning to her desk, she slid open a drawer, setting the piece of paper neatly on top. “I’m putting this in my desk. Top left drawer. 3rd paper from the bottom.”  
He raised his eyebrows at the back of her head. “Very specific. Why are you telling me that?”  
She looked at him over her shoulder, shutting the drawer. Her eyes were still ghostly blue.  
“You’ll need to remember.” _

“Hey, Lucien? You still with us?”

He shook his head, muttering. “Sorry, I’m back.”  
The entire room looked at him curiously. Serana looked at him knowingly.  
“Memory?”  
He nodded. “Yes. But this one was different.”  
“Hm?”  
“She told me something important.” He pointed towards the library door. “Top left drawer, 3rd paper from the bottom.”  
Serana cocked her head. “Huh?”  
“A list and description of every shout she learned.”  
She sped off towards the library, grinning. “Looks like we’ve received a gift.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Human, by Sevdeliza
> 
> (in time for Halloween lmao)

The forests were not welcoming.

The dark trees crowded the pathways, retaking the land with their roots and covering trails with leaves. It seemed as though one wrong step, and you became the forest’s prisoner. The night sky lit up nothing, only denying day’s usual light from permeating the canopy. The eyes burned into the backs of travelers, reminding them that they were so deeply alone here, and yet. They were not.  
The sounds of wildlife were nonexistent. There were no footsteps, no chirps, no rustling. Everything had either stopped moving, or had disappeared. It felt sinister. Something waited in the shadows, intentions unknown.

He tried to remember what he was looking for. It felt like he was getting closer, but the more he walked, the more the winding path stretched out before him. The torch’s light gave off a halo, casting its ring of safety around its holder.  
_Safety is false. I need to hurry._  
His map crinkled with his steps, and he held his pen with an unsteady hand. Suddenly, a scream erupted from deep inside the forest. He swiveled to the west, looking for the source, before remembering his directions.  
_Look for nothing but what you seek. Walk quickly, and do not speak._  
The forest watched him from every direction. No entities were visible, but he felt he was performing to an audience. He straightened himself forward, and continued his stride, keeping his eyes focused on the darkness of the path before him.

Soon, it emerged.  
Stone, by stone, he realized he was approaching his destination. The edge of the mountain gave way to a building, built halfway out and halfway in. Its entrance stuck out, leading into the less man-made lower levels. Its polished stone gave way to less efficient carving, leading into the shadowy earth. No light came from the building, and no light came from inside, either. There seemed to be no inhabitants.

He stared at the building in terror, shakily marking the spot on the map.

It was not the absence of light, or the tunnel into the earth that alarmed him. No, it wasn’t the darkness or isolation inside this building that struck such pure fear into his heart.

It was why he knew no lights were on inside.

The doors were open.

He rolled his map up with hasty efficiency, only pausing to listen to the tomb when he had put it away. He resisted the urge to run only to uncover what he had thought he heard. For his entire journey, the wildlife of the forest seemed to all have stopped existing. The only sound he had heard for hours was the sound of his own footsteps against the dirt and leaves. But now, there was another set. Another set of footsteps echoed through to him, throwing him into such disbelief that he looked at his own feet for reassurance.  
_Who would be in a tomb with no light, walking so slowly?_  
He listened for more, tempted to break a rule. _Do not speak._

“H-hello?”

The footsteps stopped, then started again, now sounding closer and closer with every thump. The lack of response chilled his bones, but he waited, eager to know who was in the tunnel.

The first thing he saw was the arm, outstretched and bent into unholy positions.  
Then the head, blank and empty eyes focusing on him.  
It began towards him.

He felt his heart beat faster and faster as his feet sent him down the pathway like lightning. He ignored his heaving lungs until he could see the glow of Riften’s lights. Approaching the city, he yelled into the night,

“Courier! Someone find me a courier! I have a message to send! Someone find me a carriage! I need to get to Falkreath! I need to go! I NEED TO GO!”  
(stop music) —  
Serana fiddled with the pen in her hand. “Telekinesis?”  
He nodded.  
“Did you see her use it on any humans?”  
He thought back to the river man. “Yes, but not without considerable effort.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “A live person?”  
He nodded again.  
She added telekinesis to the list. “Everyday I learn something new. Today, I learned my sister could throw people around with her mind. You know, just casual fun facts.”  
He stared indifferently at the table.  
“Hey, Lucien?”  
“Hm.”  
“When’s the last time you did what you do best?”  
“What?”  
“Murder. When’s the last time you did a contract?”  
He shrugged. “A while.”  
“Yeah, you need to get out of the house. You look like you’ve had the life sucked out of you. Go see if Nazir has any. I’ll make sure no one here dies. Go.”  
“You sound like the Listener.”  
“What, because I care about my friends and want to see them not mopey? Go eat something too.”  
He grinned. “I was going to say ‘bossy’.”  
“Oh, I’m telling her you said that!”  
“Where’s your proof?”  
“Get out of here before I give you another reason to be called ghost!”  
He laughed, walking out into the front hall, talking to himself out loud. “Listener, if you can somehow hear me, I was kidding.”  
Nazir shuffled a paper, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a worry we should have? Could she hear us?”  
Lucien shrugged. “Never hurts to be safe. I don’t want an angry ghost haunting me because I made a joke.”  
“I’m worried to even ask what you said. Anyways, the Listener apparently wanted to have an angry ghost with her as much as possible.”  
“I was not angry most of the time.”  
“You mentioned murder every 2 minutes, at least while you were in the Sanctuary. I had to reassure the initiates that you were on our side, and they had nothing to fear.”  
“You lied to them. There are many things to fear.”  
“Don’t kill my initiates, Lucien.”  
“I didn’t say that _I_ should be feared.”  
Nazir rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is there a reason you came in here, or are you going to say you’re restless again?”  
“Do you have any contracts?”  
“What?”  
Babette, slouched in the corner, started groaning. “A contract, Nazir. The papers you have now. Come on.”  
Nazir rolled his eyes, and grabbed a paper from the top. “Here. Go have fun.”  
Lucien took a glance at it, reading the top of the page. “This is a scout report.”  
“Then go investigate it. I’m sure there’s something there that can die.”  
Babette sighed. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just grumpy because he doesn’t like paperwork. Bring me a souvenir on your way back, kay?”  
Moving toward the door, he chuckled. “What kind of souvenir?”  
“A drink, perhaps?”  
“There’s too many vampires in my house. I’ll see what I can do.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Night Mother is such a Mom

He wiped the dagger on his side. The blood on his shirt faded into black, but the blood on his hands stood out heavily. He sighed, sheathing the blade. He was going to need to clean that up before the sun rose. Heading towards the door, a voice made him stop in his tracks.

_Come to the Sanctuary._

His heart skipped a beat, and he whipped his head around the room like he would find the source of the noise with him. He knew he wouldn’t, but it was almost instinctual. The voice was a hoarse woman’s, and he felt like he knew whose it was, but he feared asking.

“...Night Mother?”

The room did not answer him. He knew what she’d said, but did he knew what she’d meant? Obviously to go to the Dawnstar sanctuary, but did this mean he was Listener?

“Please, no.”

The room still did not answer him.  
—  
With only one current inhabitant, the Sanctuary was less lively than it usually was. Nazir and Babette were at his house, preparing for the days ahead, and the initiates usually mulling around were on scout missions. That left Cicero, keeper of the Night Mother, whom he wasn’t sure was actually here.  
Lucien pulled his hood up almost instinctively, seeing the black hand banners. It had been so long since...since he was Speaker, in his old Sanctuary, but the habits still remained. The tables around him had dripping candles, plates, and inkwells scattered about, and if he stared long enough, it almost felt like Cheydinhal.

_Come to me._

But it wasn’t Cheydinhal, it was Dawnstar, and there was a reason he came. He strode forward and turned into the Night Mother’s chamber.

The coffin was decorated intricately, with long spirals circling and ending at the seams. Its metallic glow had always held something sinister, casting a dark halo, but he wasn’t sure it was because of the metal.

“Night Mother?”  
 _Hello Lucien._  
“Why have you called me here, Matron?”  
 _Am I not allowed to see my children once in a while?_  
He hesitated to answer. The last time he had been in the Sanctuary was…He didn’t remember. Hoarse chuckling reverberated through his head.  
 _Do not worry child. I have not named you Listener, I want to help you save mine._  
“You think it is possible?”  
 _I know it is, but I know it will be harder than you or the others might expect._  
He felt his hope rise, but her words weighed heavily.  
 _I trust you have not given up on her?_  
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”  
 _Then she has chosen well. Do not forget that, child._  
“Night Mother, if I may ask, why did you choose me in the first place?”  
 _To save her?_  
“No, to follow her as a specter.”  
 _Oh, why did I choose you to follow her instead of another?_  
“Yes.”  
 _I remember your past, and I have never forgotten your devotion. No one deserved a second chance more than you, child, and the best I could give was in service to my Listener._  
“Was it your idea to give me life again?”  
 _No._  
He stared at the floor, surprised. He had thought the Night Mother had employed her Listener to make the kills, but to know that it was her…  
 _She came to me for advice, and for a favor. She was very worried that you would grow to dislike her for taking you out of the void, and almost gave up. But I knew you. When she came back out of the void, she was so determined._  
“When she, what?”  
 _She went to the void to ask Sithis for your life, and came back out with more determination than I had expected. That determination is why I won’t name another Listener._ Her voice lilted proudly.  
“She went to the void?? Living?? And talked to Sithis??”  
 _Yes child. More important matters at hand._  
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re right, Night Mother. I apologize.”  
 _Now, I will only name a new Listener if Gwendolyn’s soul goes to the void. Then she will be released from duty. But until then, I trust you and the other members will do everything to save her. And if you can’t, to at least free her soul._  
“Of course, Night Mother, but I have another question. Why did you approve of Gwendolyn’s idea?”  
 _As I said, no one deserves a second chance more._  
Lucien looked at the ground.  
 _And you make my Listener happy._  
“I made her happy, Night Mother. Now she’s gone.”  
 _I know what I said, child. Make._  
Lucien suddenly looked up at the coffin’s haunting face.  
“Was that a..?”  
 _Go now, Child. You have work to do._  
—  
Shadowmere seemed to understand his urgency, because the air whipped past him on the way back to his house. As soon as they reached the porch, he slid off and strided into the door. Everyone’s heads turned towards him. _Feels more like a headquarters now._  
He stood at the head of the table, and everyone slowly gathered around him. “We need to pick up the pace.”  
Serana was the first to speak up. “Any reason why?”  
“Yeah, other than the dragons?”  
“Thank you for your input, Olva, but my reasoning wasn’t as strong. We aren’t getting anywhere and how many of you want to live without her longer?”  
Serana was suddenly staring at the grain of the table.  
“We don’t need a bunch of people to bring to the tomb. We understand the danger and we need to take the risk, but I have another problem.”  
She had not moved.  
“The Night Mother spoke to me.”  
Nazir sat up straight in his chair. “What? What did she say? Are you the new Listener?”  
“No, she told me that our duty is to either save her, or release her to the void.”  
He slid back, contemplative. “I don’t know why, but it had never occurred to me that she didn’t go to the void. And I thought you were a restless spirit. Oh Gwen…”  
Lucien nodded. “And if the Unholy Matron is more willing to believe in her than move on, then we need to follow in her footsteps and push harder to get her back. Serana?”  
She didn’t look like she was all there, then suddenly she snapped back into her mind like a slingshot. A realization dawned on her face, and it looked like it had terrified her.  
“Lucien, I just had a memory.”  
“Are you alright?”  
“It wasn’t mine.”  
“What?”  
“I just had a flashback to a time and place I was never at.”  
“What does that mean?”  
Serana’s eyes were wide, frightened and thinking quickly. “Why do I have Gwen’s memories?!”  
Lucien moved to grab her shoulders, feeling like he was holding her to the ground. “Serana, focus, and explain to us what you mean.”  
She took a shaky breath in, and settled down. “While you were talking, I had a memory flashback. Very sorry I didn’t hear what you were saying, but I was more concerned with the fact that I had never been to the place in my memory. I was going through the motions, but they weren’t my motions. I was Gwendolyn.”  
Lucien released her shoulders. “How do you have her memories? Were you with anybody?”  
“No, I was alone. But as for why I have them, I have a theory. Lucien, think hard to every flashback you’ve had.”  
He remembered as many as he could. “Alright?”  
“Were there any that seemed slightly off? Like they weren’t what happened in real life? Or she said or did something different?”  
He thought back, thinking to his most recent memory. The room watched the two with cautious curiosity. “The one where she had told me the location of her Shout list. I didn’t know the location before that.”  
Serana’s bright yellow eyes now focused on him with determined precision. “Is it because you forgot?”  
He hesitated, then finally realized what she had meant.  
“Lucien, did you not know the location because you forgot? Or is it because she never told you?”  
“She...never told me. Then that isn’t...my memory.”  
Serana sighed heavily, moving to the other head of the table. “Then my theory is very likely confirmed. Listen, everyone. I had never previously entertained the thought, but it is possible that Gwendolyn’s spirit was…”  
She looked at Lucien, almost apologetically.  
“It’s possible it was ripped into more than 2 pieces. There could be any number. It’s more than likely they have attached themselves to things they remember. Lucien and I...have pieces. And it seems she knows.”  
He stared at her from across the room, face twisting into confusion. “She knows?”  
“She knows what we’re about to do.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“What reason would she have to give you a list of her Shouts? If she knew that you would need to defend against them. She knows, and she’s trying to help us. As for my memory...I think I understand what she was pointing out.”  
Lucien’s hopes weren’t completely crushed, but he did wish that this was easier. “What do you think she was pointing out?”  
Serana’s smile grew, and it lifted the tension off the room. “I don’t know if any of you are scholars, but I think Gwen wants a specific one. Road trip, Cicero?”  
Cicero was about to answer excitedly, but he was interrupted by the loud knocking on the door.  
“LET ME IN! I DON’T REMEMBER MY KNOCK! LET ME IN!”  
“Is that..?”  
Lucien turned, hiding his laugh. “It is. I’ll get the door.”  
As soon as it was out of his way, a very disheveled elf burst into the door, with a magic light hovering over his shoulder. His intricate braid seemed to be falling apart, and his deep blue scholar’s robes were caked in mud.  
“Hello, Tilgitt.”  
The elf turned to him, face incredulous with fear. “NECROMANCY?!”


	18. Chapter 18

“Alright, alright, slow down. What do you mean?”  
“I mean there was ZOMBIES in the TOMB.”  
Lucien pinched his nose tiredly. “Why were you there?”  
Tilgitt was still trying to push his hair back from his eyes, the braid now undone. His hands were almost shaking, but his eyes were focused intently. “Unimportant. What IS important, is Gwendolyn’s ghost.”  
Serana blinked. “How do you know about that?”  
“Increased magical presence around the location of Castle Volkihar. Knew it was you. What else would you be doing?”  
She raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it explains everything.”  
“It explains enough. Now to my point.” The words flew out of him a mile a minute. He sounded like he was reading off a report to a professor, so much so that it was hard to believe he hadn’t written this down somewhere.  
“Tomb Gwendolyn knows all of Gwendolyn’s attack methods. Magic, shout, or steel, you name it, she knows it. She’s going to be the most difficult.”  
Lucien held up his hand. “But Gwendolyn didn’t...doesn’t know necromancy.”  
Tilgitt’s intense golden eyes bore into him. “Look me in the eye and tell me that for certain.”  
“I can’t.”  
“Exactly. To my surprise as well, she does. But me finding that highlighted another item.”  
“What is it?”  
“Inhibitions.”  
“Huh?”  
“Look, the reason none of us knew Gwendolyn knew necromancy, was most likely because she hid it from us. It’s not exactly widely accepted, so she probably didn’t want anyone to know.”  
The puzzle pieces clicked in her head. “So if she’s freely using it now…she doesn't care anymore.”  
“She has no inhibitions.” Lucien added.  
Tilgitt nodded vehemently. “No inhibitions means no limits. She will be the most difficult opponent we have ever faced, and she will pull no punches. We have to be clever.”

_“Clever girl. Keep this safe for me, alright?”  
The book’s worn yellow cover felt familiar in her hand, although she had never seen this before.   
She glanced up. Minette gleefully looked back at her, grinning and taking the book from her outstretched hand.  
“Mama, you’re the best!”  
She laughed, although it was not her voice, and gave a pointed look towards the child. “Remember what I said. Keep it safe.”  
Minette nodded and winked, disappearing around a corner, leaving her in the expanse of the house dining room.  
She slowly walked towards the corner, staring into the bucket of water. Her reflection danced back at her, waves rippling her familiar face. These were yellow eyes, sure, but they were not hers.  
The silence of the dining room thickened, enveloping her._

_“Never judge a book by its cover, clever girl.”_

_The reflection’s crimson lips twisted into a grin._

“Serana?”  
She shook her head of the fuzzy thoughts. “Huh?”  
Tilgitt’s eyes scanned her face for clues, but Lucien’s were knowing.  
“Did we get a gift?”  
The fog slowly left her mind. “I...I think so. Where’s Minette?”  
“Minette? I think she’s upstairs, why?”  
“She was there. I need to talk to her.”  
The door cracked open, and a little blonde head peeked through. “I heard my name?”  
“Perfect timing,” Serana knelt on one knee, making herself eye level. “Kiddo, yellow book. Did you keep it safe?  
Minette’s eyes were full of caution, but she nodded. “...Yes? Why?”  
“Can you bring it to me?”  
She pointed underneath the table, using her other hand to feel the underside. Suddenly, she slid it out of place and put it on the table. It was old and worn, and the front read “a Book of Riddles” in large font.  
Serana eyed it carefully. “Never judge a book by its cover…?”  
Lucien watched them with curiosity, before actually taking a look at the edge of the book. The pages were all bent into an arch, shifted out of place by something in between them and the back cover.  
“Literally the cover. Look.” He pointed.  
She flipped to the very last page, where a long metal key was sewn in.  
“A key? But to where?”  
Tilgitt took it out, examining the metal. “It’s indistinguishable. Do either of you know a place she might be leading us?”  
Lucien gave an unsure nod. “I have an idea, but barely any evidence.”  
“Well, it’s currently our best guess.” Serana shrugged. “Where?”  
“Long before all of this, I once went with her to a house that she seemed to want to leave behind very much. She just wanted me to keep watch on the door…”

_The lock clicked shut._

_Her night-black hair was wrapped tightly in a bun, but pieces of it hung closer her face. It made her look more frantic than usual, and it worried him.  
She turned towards him, bright yellow eyes a contrast against the dark. Her finger flew to her lips when he almost began to speak. He stopped, and nodded._

_Her head swiveled toward the marketplace and the rest of the city, watching carefully.  
“Laas!”  
One second. Two seconds. Exhale.  
“Alright, thank you Lucien. We need to go.”  
She started forward, letting him trail behind, but suddenly she stopped. Her head turning over her shoulder, the first thing he noticed was her eyes. A familiar shade of blue.  
“Lucien, look at the key. Do you recognize it?”  
He looked at the palm of her outstretched hand.  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Look closely.”  
In the metal, was an engraved “2”.  
“Quickly. What city is this?”  
He felt this place get foggy, and her hand seemed to get further away. “What?”  
“Lucien, what city?!”  
He glanced around, recognizing the sound of the docks and the lights of the marketplace, but the lights danced around.  
He thought he was swaying. “Ri...Riften.” _

The dining room seemed to snap back into focus.  
He blinked, realizing Serana’s hand was on his shoulder, almost holding him up.  
“Lucien, are you good?”  
“No...I think I’m quite evil...by most standards.”  
“He’s still swaying. Get a chair.”  
Tilgitt shot up, sliding a chair behind him. “Another memory?”  
“I think so. Lucien, focus on me. Gift?”  
He nodded, the fog lifting slowly. “Riften. House in Riften. Honeyside. #2 key.”  
Tilgitt looked at the key in his hand. “Is he sure?”  
“Lucien, are you sure?”  
He blinked. “Why?”  
Tilgitt studied the key closer. “This says #1.”  
—  
“CICERO, WE’RE GOING TO RIFTEN! ROAD TRIP!”  
The jester pumped his fist. “Yes!”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sad boi hours

Riften was a beautiful city. Its wooden buildings, lively marketplace, and warm lights gave it a blanket feeling of safety. Its unparalleled criminal history, however, did not.

The Thieves Guild ran their operations underneath the city. Most of the citizens knew they were there, and yet no one had ever caught them, or shut down the system. Whether it was power, or protection that kept them afloat, no one knew.  
It did help to be a companion of the most powerful mortal on Tamriel, though, because if she had anything, it was connections.  
“What are we looking for?” Serana’s head swiveled around, surveying her surroundings.  
“A red-head.”  
“Very specific, Lucien.”  
“You’ll know him when you see him.”  
Tilgitt rolled his eyes. “So if we don’t have the key to the front door, what do we have?”  
Lucien pulled up his hood, staring straight forward. “Most likely, something behind the door.”  
They approached a building that dominated the landscape of the town. It sat almost directly in the middle, with several carts and people milling about its perimeter. A worn sign hung down to the side of the door, reading “Bee an Barb”  
Lucien pushed the door open, narrowing his eyes at the back of a red-headed patron.  
He sat at the corner of the bar, talking with his hands to the exasperated bartender.  
“No, Brynjolf, you do not get any free drinks for always being here.”  
“Aw, c’mon, I know I’m your favorite customer!”  
“Bold to assume, and very wrong.”  
He brought up one of his hands, holding what looked like a metal “d” about the size of his palm. “What about in exchange for this?”  
“Did you-?” She groaned, sliding over a glass. “How did you even get up there?”  
“A magician never gives away his secret.”  
“Your secret is thievery, Brynjolf.”  
“In the words of a beautiful woman, ‘Bold to assume, and very wrong.’”  
“You got your drink, now go bother someone else.”  
Brynjolf then peered over his shoulder, eyes locking onto the man in black. “Actually, I think someone’s here to bother me.”  
Lucien stepped forward. “Brynjolf.”  
“Hello, ghost man. You’re looking very solid.”  
“I’m here about Gwendolyn.”  
His face became a shade close to his hair as he sputtered. “Whatever you think I did, I promise I-”  
“She trusts you. Would she have given you anything, perhaps to keep safe for her?”  
Brynjolf’s eyes hardened as he put his guard up. “What she has and has not trusted me with is none of your business.”  
 _It is more my business than yours._ “It has a #2 on it.”  
“How did you-?”  
“Would you trust me more if I told you I had #1?”  
He tried to regain his composure. “Alright, so the lass gave me something to hang on to, ‘case she needed help. Question is, why do you need it?”  
Lucien shrugged. “She hasn’t told me yet.”  
“And I'm just s’posed to hand it over? Do you even know what it’s for?”  
“It opens a door I need to be on the other side of. I am not a patient man, Brynjolf. Either you give it to me now, or I can forcefully take it off you.”  
Brynjolf reached into his pocket and set down a key identical to the one up his sleeve, besides the #2. “No need to threaten me, ghost man. Lass told me plenty of what you’re capable of. Here.”  
“I thank you for your cooperation.” Lucien turned on his heel and strided toward the exit.  
Serana raised an eyebrow, trailing behind him out the door. “What was that about?”  
“The key.”  
“Lucien, if we’re gonna work together, I’m gonna need to know why you dislike that man.”  
“He probably has a thing for Gwendolyn.” Tilgitt interjected. “Turned red at the mention of her.”  
Lucien grimaced, approaching the door. “I will never be one to doubt the Listener, but to trust a thief with a key is not...a move I would make.”  
“Well it helps if you don’t tell him where the lock is.”  
From the look on Lucien’s face, Brynjolf was only alive by whatever protection Gwendolyn had over him.  
“Don’t give me that look, ghost man. I’m here to help.”  
“Fine, but get in my way, and the Listener will not be here to save you.”  
“Point taken.” The redhead turned to Tilgitt. “And I do not have a thing for her.”  
Tilgitt shrugged. “Sure.”  
—  
Honeyside wasn’t a large home, but it sat on the edge of the water, high on the docks. It matched the city, warm and safe, and built with worn wood. It had an atmosphere that relaxed one’s spirit.   
Lucien spoke to the room. “Look around for anything she might have been pointing out.”  
“Also any weapons. We like those.”  
“Thank you Serana.”  
The team milled around the two first rooms, finding nothing of interest. It looked like a normal house, as far as they could tell. Nothing seemed out of place.  
Serana marveled at the cleanliness. “I love my sister, don’t get me wrong, but she was never this clean. This looks like she never lived here.”  
“Agreed. I was the one who organized her library, because 25% of the books she owned were actually on shelves.”  
Lucien held up his hand, signaling to everyone to stop moving. They obeyed, watching him.  
“There’s no shelves here.”  
“Yeah, so? She probably put her entire collection all together.”  
He shook his head. “When she left the house, it was obvious she was hiding something. Now we know she knows how to perform necromancy. How likely is it that she learned it from a book?”  
Tilgitt’s head swiveled around. “...Pretty likely…So why is there no books here?”  
Brynjolf stared at Serana. “She knows what?!” She gave him a half-hearted shrug.  
Lucien suddenly pointed towards the rug. “There’s a reason we have 2 keys. One has to unlock something inside the house.” He knelt down, throwing it up.  
“Like a trap door.”  
\--  
 _In the dark of night, he found himself awake again. He didn’t even want to know what hour this was. It had been too many times that he found himself in this position, unable to sleep, but too weary to do anything of use. All he could do was sit and stare, and attempt to understand what it was that kept him awake so many nights in a row. He focused on the candle in the room, desperate for anything to focus on. The candle’s light struggled to make it past the overwhelming darkness of the room, and it amused him for a minute to watch the candle’s dancing flame.  
The candle only concerned him when the flame grew bigger.  
Suddenly the struggling flame became the struggling darkness, and he looked around frantically, more awake than he had been for awhile. It only occurred to him the source of the fire’s power might have been next to him after he saw the sheets clenched in her fist.  
“Listener?”  
He couldn’t tell if she was awake, but the arrow of fear struck him as soon as he heard the first sharp intake of breath. Her breathing was raspy and heavy, and suddenly her wild yellow eyes caught him by surprise.  
“Listener, look at me. Wake up.”  
Her eyes were piercing into him, but she wasn’t there. The candle’s flame was raging on the table next to him, growing by some power in her hands. She was now sitting up and facing him, staring with such fear it made him worry. The flame’s wild light danced across her face, causing her desperate look to look even more pronounced.  
“Come back to me, Gwendolyn. Come back, shhh.” He gripped her shoulders, trying to pull her back from wherever she was. Her fearful breathing had become whisperings, only some of which he could understand.  
“On…..sha…..no.”  
He moved the hair out of her eyes. “Listener? Gwendolyn? Shh, look at me.”  
“Not all…..it’s not…….don’t…...leave.”  
“Don’t leave? Gwendolyn, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He lightly squeezed her hand, trying to root some feeling to the real world. “Focus on me.”  
Her eyes still were almost empty, staring at him, but also through him. Slowly, but noticeably, they focused more, but with every moment she looked into his eyes, the more fear that seemed to plague her.  
“Not all shadows are safe. And not all light doesn’t burn.”  
“Gwendolyn?”  
“I have ruined everything! Don’t let me hurt you!” Tears had started streaming down her face. “Do not forgive me!”  
He had her face in his hands now. “GWENDOLYN!”_

_Then suddenly, she blinked, and there she was._

_“Have you come back to me?”  
She blinked again, eyes becoming a blue he wished he’d never known.  
“Please, please forgive me. Don’t hate me, Lucien. Please…”  
“Listener, I-” _

“...could never.”  
“Lucien, are you okay?”

He nodded quickly, picking up the book he had dropped. “We need to get these and go. Too much to do.” He drew up his hood, and sped past her.


	20. Chapter 20

The jester of the household was not happy to be left in charge of the household.

“Cicero does not understand why he could not go to Riften with the others?”  
Nazir shrugged. “Lucien told you to stay here, that’s why. He gave no further reasoning.”

Although Cicero still grumbled, he kept his mouth shut. There was no arguing with Lucien. He wanted to know the reason he was posted at the Listener’s house, but pressing for further information was an unspoken prohibition. The Speaker’s word was law.

The restless jester busied himself with logging every member in his head. Nothing else to do.  
The occupants of the household were as follows:   
Lydia, loyal housecarl to the former thane of Whiterun. Until another is named, she remains in service. Currently hurriedly sorting through Serana’s notes and papers on the table.  
Olva and children, usual occupants of the household. Children were outside in the lake, supervised by the grandmother figure.  
Nazir, main organizer of the Dark Brotherhood. You know him, Cicero. Foolish. Currently sorting through scout reports.  
Babette, member of the Dark Brotherhood. Currently asleep upstairs. It’s daytime!  
Cicero, current ke-FOOL! We don’t need to list ourselves!   
Varna, friend of the Listener’s. Currently cooking something very nice-smelling. Cicero hopes it is sweetrolls.

Lydia has picked up a map! She is rolling up the map! She is...leaving?  
“Why does the housecarl leave with the map?” It sounded like it wasn’t addressed to her, but it was. Cicero cocked his head at the retreating figure. “Where are you going?”  
Lydia’s posture was tight and unfriendly as she left. No response.  
“Nazir, why does the housecarl leave?”  
Nazir cast a glance up at the Keeper, and almost responded with sarcasm, but the genuine concern on Cicero’s face stopped him. The more he thought about it, he...couldn’t think of a reason why.  
“I don’t know, Keeper.”  
Cicero cast a cautious glance at the now closed front door.  
“Do you perceive her as a threat, Keeper?”  
“Well, Cicero does not know her. He doesn’t know the Listener’s opinion of her. How is he supposed to know? What are Nazir’s thoughts?”  
He felt the suspicion of the woman grow.   
“Anyone can be a threat, Keeper. Now is not the time to guess. Now of all times, we cannot guess.”

_Cicero, wake up._

_Cicero. WAKE UP._

_He opened his eyes._

_“There is no light here, Listener.”  
“I know, Cicero, I’m sorry.”  
“It is alright, dear Listener! Cicero just wonders why we are...here?”  
Her eyes were focused on him, or were they? No pupils, he can’t tell.  
“I need you to do something for me.”  
“Of course! Whatever the Listener needs.”  
“Do my job.”  
“Huh?”  
“I need you to be a good listener. Listen, very closely. I can tell you only once.”  
“Oh, okay.”  
“You may not know where I am with your eyes.’  
“My-?”  
“You have to listen.”  
“Cicero does not understand, Listener.”  
“You don’t have to, not yet. Just remember. Listen closely, Keep my words.”  
“Okay…”  
“Follow that which feels alien to you. Follow that which reminds you of home. Think of me when you need it most, and do not fear what you don’t know. Do you understand?”  
The puzzle pieces she had given him clicked together, but the puzzle was far from complete.  
“Yes...Cicero thinks he does, Listener.”  
“One last thing. Do you trust the Speaker?”  
“Lucien? Of course, Listener!” She had never called him Speaker before, and it sounded foreign.  
“A missed opportunity is a road to another. Follow, Keeper.” _

He opened his eyes, gasping for air. Nazir stared at him with caution and concern, face not masking what he suspected had happened.  
“Was that…?”  
Cicero coughed, leaping to his feet. “Cicero has a piece! Another piece! No time! Tell the Speaker! Cicero has to go!”  
“W-what? Where to? Wait until Lucien returns!”  
Cicero’s manic grin had spread, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins was stronger than Nazir’s authority.

“Cicero will not disobey direct orders from the Listener, dear Nazir. And she said follow.”

The jester sprinted out the front door like the edge of a blade was at his back.  
\--  
 _Follow that which feels alien to you._

To anyone else, a difficult riddle, but to Cicero? Perfect sense.

Lydia’s armor.

It was metal, nordic, shiny, and made her terrible at stealth. The complete opposite of everything Cicero knew well. Part of being an assassin was not being seen, and that housecarl was like a beacon when she stepped into sunlight. He had thought about it when he met her, and he thought about it now, watching her enter that forsaken castle.

Castle Volkihar was not inviting to visitors, seeing as it was home to a clan of vampires. However, it was Serana’s clan of vampires. That granted him immunity, but still. The thought of testing that limit made his stomach drop. No unnecessary meetings.

His question was Lydia’s reason for being here. She was most likely not granted immunity, and yet there she went, further into it. All he could do was...follow.  
The closer he got, the more he realized she had not walked in the front door, but had actually started climbing the wall along the side. The last time he had seen the inside of the room at the top, it was with the Listener, and they were visiting lady Serana. She had said it was her home away from home, implying her clan work could not get her there. It seemed as though the housecarl was determined to get there. And with each step up, the fear in his veins boiled more.  
Lady Serana had said that her lab was her home away from home as well. The lab in which she kept…  
The Listener.  
He needed to get up that wall.


	21. Chapter 21

The castle sat on an island out in the sea, almost always surrounded in fog. It wasn’t visible from shore, being what felt like miles out from the mainland, but Cicero admitted he didn’t know the distance. He only knew that he despised the water, and this wasn’t a safe place to be.  
Out to the west of Solitude, somewhere where the water churned and shifted underneath him. The dark blue mixed with foamy white, and looking at it spun the jester’s head.  
“Oooo, Cicero HATES the sea, Listener.”

_I know, dear._

His eyes widened. “He knows you wouldn’t send him out here if it wasn’t important, Listener.” He smiled at the distance before him, but his mind remained quiet.  
The castle loomed overhead, and the housecarl was no longer in sight.  
“If she can scale the wall in clunky armor, Cicero can get there without it. No doubt!”

It stayed quiet.

“Cicero...Cicero misses you, Listener.”  
—  
The front gate of the castle was grand and ancient, just like the people who resided in it. Luckily, he didn’t have to take that door, or anywhere but this specific part of the building. The wall that led to Serana’s window was newer than the rest of the castle, so its bricks were less likely to crumble beneath him.  
Looking up, he gave a grin to the stone. “The best way to go is always up!”

Hand, foot, push. Hand, foot, push. The wall was sturdy, but his main worry was looking to the ground. The window was now only a few feet above him, but the ground was much further.  
“Cicero will not fail you, Listener.”

_Do my job._

The first time she said that, he thought she was giving up her position, and it hurt him. The only way for her to go was to stay gone, and that hurt worse than staying Keeper. But she didn’t mean it like that. She meant to be a listener. A very good Listener.  
Listen closely, and be very quiet.  
He dug his hands into the stone and held on, ignoring the cold. 

“You…..don’t…..me.”

The noise was echoing through the fog and wind and was hard to pinpoint, but he knew that voice. Lydia. Slowly, but surely, he inched closer to the window.

“You...can’t come back…...I was……”

What is she saying? Is she talking to…?

Cicero climbed higher, finally reaching the window and peering over the ledge.

Lydia was pacing around the dark room, illuminated by a strange blue light. The room was cold and unwelcoming, and the woman looked so utterly out of place. Her hair was messy, her cheeks red from the wind, and as she talked to no one she gestured wildly with her hands. The axe sheathed on her hip did not go unnoticed.

“They want you back so badly, but they don’t need you! They don’t need you to fight the dragons for them! They don’t need you to lead them! They don’t need you back! They’re just selfish! Why can’t you stay dead?!” Her voice inched closer and closer to shouting. He hoped the vampires could not hear through stone.

Cicero held back his gasp, taken aback by the comments. _Of course they needed her to fight the dragons and lead them! She had killed more dragons in her lifetime than he had even seen! They could try to fight the dragons themselves, but how many people had to die?_

“You were always so convenient! Always ready to help, always ready to be there, always so confident! They even named you Thane! THANE! You were in the city for less than a week, and they put you in charge! I had devoted so much of my life to that city, and you took it from me because you were just... _born that way._ And suddenly I had to serve you.”

_Was that why she came out here? To scream at a corpse? What is the point of this, Listener? Cicero cocked his head. Of course when she was named Listener, Cicero would’ve loved to have been in her shoes, but never enough for this. This was…_

“That’s why you can’t come back. And I’m going to make sure they can’t stitch you back together ever again.”

She unsheathed the axe, and walked out of his vision.

His breath caught in his throat. “No,” It was a quiet whisper, sounding almost desperate and like that, it was whisked away into the wind. “Don’t hurt her!”  
He pushed himself into the opening, suddenly feeling the adrenaline in his veins. _Where are you, Listener?! Where did she go!?_

_You may not know where I am with your eyes._

He blinked, and felt the last puzzle piece click into place.

Somewhere in the laboratory, the hum of active soul gems reverberated through the walls, and he listened to the clink clink of Lydia’s boots on stone. Following the echoes, the scene came into view.

The Listener.

She stayed suspended above the ground, floating ever slightly. Her head was tilted down, sending down pitch black hair over her face, hiding the part of her he found most familiar. It didn’t feel like it was truly...her, but he knew it was because of the time that he felt so distanced from someone he knew so well. Her clothes were stained deep with her blood, but the wound didn’t appear to be there anymore, giving him the smallest bit of relief. He wasn’t sure if he could see that again.  
He never wanted to see her like that, ever again.  
Holding back his emotions, he blinked again. “Listener…”

Lydia spun on her heel. “JESTER?! Why are you here?!” She readied her axe arm, but it felt hesitant. Like she wouldn’t truly swing at him.

He drew his dagger, walking menacingly towards the housecarl.

“You can’t-No! You can’t stop me! I can’t allow her to come back! No!”

_Cicero, my dear._

He looked suddenly at the corpse, like the noise came from her.

_Duck._

The axe flew over his head, right as he obeyed the order. 

“He cannot allow you to hurt the Listener.”

Now unarmed, she backed up in fear. “No! No, I won’t hurt her! She won’t even feel it! She’s dead, jester!”

He raised his dagger, cornering her. “Not to Cicero, she isn’t.”

Blood and shiny armor. Shiny, shiny armor.


	22. Chapter 22

_Think of me when you need it most._

 

It was cold here. Up in the clouds and the wind and the stone. Like the burial place of a whisper.

It couldn’t be the burial place for someone made of so much fire. Someone who was so warm and full of life. But then again, all fires become nothing but a whisper at some point.

“But not yet, right Listener?”

He paced back and forth, trying to focus on the clicks of his shoes on the stone floor. Trying to avoid the puddle of blood. Trying to avoid the hum of the soul gems. Trying to avoid the passage of time.  
But he knew it’d been hours.  
“Cicero, we have to go home now. We have to tell Lucien. We have to report back! Go home, Cicero!” But his feet would not comply.  
The closer he got to the window in which he’d come, the more the dread bubbled up inside of him. It had been so, so long since he’d seen the Listener, and even if she was unresponsive, how could he just leave her? Still suspended in the air like that? But he couldn’t take her home, no. The soul gems were keeping her intact.

_Think of me when you need it most._

“Cicero needs to go home, Listener! But-”

He got closer to the window again, and felt the fear build up as it had a million times before.

“-But I can’t!”

What was he supposed to do here? He killed Lydia, he was done. Contract over, mission accomplished. But something was keeping him here.  
_Think of me when you need it most._  
“He needs to, Listener. Cicero needs it most. But if he thinks about you, then he sees…” He looked at the levitating corpse. “...you.”

_“Can I trust you, Cicero?”_

_Bright yellow eyes and a red dress. Pitch black hair and a crimson smile. Firewood crackled somewhere behind her, sending sparks and smoke into the air. It's warm and safe here, with the laughter of children outside the walls, and the sunlight shining through the windows. Somewhere, a ghost shifted through papers. He knew because he could hear the rustling, and see a halo of blue light._

_“Cicero, look at me.” Her voice was gentle and comforting, but still held the commanding authority she knew she had._

_He met her eyes, watching the eclipse scan him over. Her hair was falling out of her braid, and he saw a bloom of nightshade sticking out of it. For some reason, he knew he’d put it there._

_“Can I trust you?’_

_An easy enough question. She was Listener to the same mother. Of course, he would always have her back. But this wasn’t real, was it?  
So then what was she really asking?_

_She heard this thought, and her smile grew._

_“I can, but do you?”_

_The Listener trusts him. Does he what..?_

_“Do you trust you?”_

_He stared at the window, watching the wind howl outside. It's cold here._

“It's not home without you, Listener,” He began. “But Cicero can't fix it from in here, can he?”  
He started towards the window, pushing down the fear and sliding out. Sending a sad smile towards her, he began his descent down the wall.  
“See you soon, Listener.” 

_See you soon, Cicero._


	23. Chapter 23

“You’re back.” Nazir looked up from his papers.  
Lucien did not make eye contact. “We need to gather at Riften.”  
“Hello to you too. Reason why?”  
He walked past and grabbed a bag, folding papers into it. “The tomb isn’t going to come to us.”  
“Cicero hasn’t returned yet.”  
“We picked him up on our way back. Any idea why he’s so shaken up?”  
Nazir cocked an eyebrow. “Lydia wasn’t with him?”  
“No?”  
“I think I have an idea why.”  
—  
The carriage ride to Riften was very quiet. Uncomfortably so.  
Serana coughed. “So, we need to count everyone who’s coming to our…” She trailed off.  
“Party.”  
“Thank you, Cicero. We need to know how many we go in with so we know how many we have when we come out.”  
“Agreed. Let’s start with us.” Lucien began. “Cicero, you, me, Nazir, Babette.”  
“And Shadowmere.”  
“Thank you, Cicero.”  
Nazir quizzically raised an eyebrow. “Where is the old woman, and her tagalong? Or that elf?”  
“Olva and Varna are on their way right now, Tilgitt is already in Riften, along with another new friend of ours.” Serana shot a look over at Lucien, who looked about his normal level of mad. “Speaking of, where’s Lydia?”  
Suddenly, Cicero’s glare darkened, voice laced with poison. 

“Lydia will not be coming.”

“Aaalllllrighty. Moving on.”

Lucien brought the list of Shouts out of his pocket. “Til is currently studying all of the necromancy spells in the collection, we need to study all of the Shouts she knows, and everyone else is going to be heavily armed and fighting zombies. I’m assuming all of you know how to not get stabbed? Or do we need to go over that?”  
“We know how to not get stabbed.”  
“Good. First Shout, Detect Life. If you’re hiding, and she shouts “Laas”, she’s hunting you.”  
—  
“Sooo. Gwendolyn?”  
Brynjolf groaned, watching the mischievous grin grow on the young elf’s face. “We’re really not on this again, are we? Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”  
“Trust me, after all my years of school, one thing I’ve learned is how to multitask.”  
“Can you multitask on something else?”  
“Does she know?”  
“What?! NO!”  
“So you admit there’s something TO know?”  
“STUDY!”  
Tilgitt laughed, picking up another book. “Again, I can do both.”  
He paused for a moment. “Besides, I would never.”  
“Out of respect, or fear?” He raised an eyebrow, evil golden eyes peering over the cover.  
“A bit of both. I know mentioning it would only put her in an uncomfortable position, and also, that man would murder me. I don’t want to get murdered.”  
“You’re right. I’m glad you know you’d get murdered.”  
“Thanks, Til.”  
“He would get you so fast.”  
“Thanks.”  
“You wouldn’t even see him coming.”  
“Okay, I GET it!!”  
“Like a shadow, boom. Eliminated.”  
“STUDY!”  
Tilgitt’s laughter only grew. “Ah, you make it so easy. Just like Lucien.”  
“No, if you ever teased him you’d be dead on the floor, I’m sure of it.”  
“Ah ah ah, but you forget.” Tilgitt waved his finger. “Gwen would’ve been super pissed if he killed me. Dragonborn protection.”  
“So you got away with it?!”  
“He values her approval more than shutting me up.”  
Brynjolf chuckled. “Fair enough. You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”  
“Just make sure you don’t lose her favor, or there’s nothing stopping him.”  
“Has that...happened….before?”  
Tilgitt laughed darkly. “Lucien is...easily forgiven. That’s all I’ll say.”  
Brynjolf turned toward the door, listening to the approaching footsteps. “I think they’re here.” He turned to the elf, expecting no reaction, but the elf had backed against the wall and drawn his blade.  
“That’s not Lucien.”  
“Wha-?”  
“When have you _ever_ been able to hear-!?”  
The door shook with 3 hard knocks.  
Brynjolf’s eyebrows rose with realization, and he drew his blade, carefully approaching the door.  
“Who’s there?!” He shouted, hand hovering over the doorknob.  
The voice behind the door sounded irritated. “Who’re YOU?!”  
Til’s guard dropped, and he slid off the wall. “Olva?”  
“You! I know you! Let me in!”  
His mischevious grin returned as he sheathed his blade. “How do I know it’s you? You could be an imposter. What’s my name mean?”  
The woman’s voice grew angrier, but he could hear the smile behind it. “It’s what you WON’T be if you don’t open this door!”  
Tilgitt laughed, gesturing to the door. “Go ‘head and open it. She’s one of ours.”  
The redhead cautiously turned the doorknob, swinging it open to quizzically stare at the determined old woman and her skittish companion. Olva was bent over, hauling something he couldn’t identify behind her, and grinning like she knew something he didn’t.  
“I’ve got a gift for you boys! You’re gonna like it! Shoulda seen the look on the guard’s face when I walked in with THIS!” With a swing, she threw her sack into the middle of the house. With it, several scraping and clinking noises erupted from the steel inside.  
“Olva, what is that?”  
She giggled darkly. “A loooot of weapons.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you ever read your own writing and it is SO dramatic

Approaching Riften was never so difficult. 

It was as if the winds themselves knew of the impending battle, and had fled. It was so eerily quiet for such an active city, that Lucien felt as if every civilian knew what he was about to do. Even the shadows that once welcomed him, circled around him like vultures, torches casting their demons everywhere he stepped. 

He turned to his team, entering the gate.

“You have tonight. Do what you must.”

They looked back at him, most likely feeling the weight upon their shoulders as well, and only nodded. A lingering moment between them, glances and shared grief, then they started forward again towards the house.  
\--  
Awaiting something so important such as this, one knows the gut feeling they harbor. The poison oceans that refuse to settle, deep somewhere inside your chest. The restlessness infecting every fiber of your being, knowing that every minute brings it ever closer. The instinctual fear of the unknown, the fear that what you know is false, and that you might need to trust your feet and not your eyes. The fear that you might need to trust the luck of the draw instead of your own hand.   
\--  
Tilgitt’s fingers drummed against the table anxiously, taptaptap echoing through the old wood. He bounced his foot and tried to redo his braid, but everytime he brought up his hands, they shook too much to do much good.  
“They’ve got to be here soon. Right? Soon.”  
Olva sat on a dresser across the room, balancing her sword on her knee and running a cloth over it. “They’ll be here soon, Til. Calm yourself.”  
“I am completely calm.”  
She raised an eyebrow at him, then redirected her gaze to the sword. A few swipes more, then she seemed satisfied, hopped off the dresser, and laid it where she had sat.  
“Varna, sweetheart, come here.”  
The young woman looked up from the floor, getting up slowly and shifting towards her. “Hmm?”  
“Sit down in front of me.” She moved to sit on the bed, patting her thigh. “ I’m going to braid your hair back.”  
Varna complied, sitting in front of the old woman and nervously pulling at her sleeve. “Why?”  
“During battle, I’d like you to see.” Olva chuckled.  
The tension in the room slightly lifted with her laughter, and suddenly Tilgitt let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
Olva quickly braided the blonde’s wavy hair into several small decorative braids. “So, while you are waiting, o patient one, I’d like you to tell me a story.”  
“A story?”  
“Yes, a story.” Olva chuckled again. “Tell me how you came to know Gwendolyn.”  
Varna’s expression turned from concern to happy surprise. “Oh! Well, I knew her because she would visit Whiterun and often came by my booth. We would talk whenever she visited, and I absolutely loved hearing she was in town. Our talks were always so interesting !”  
Tilgitt, fingers ceasing, laughed darkly. “Your circumstances were much better than mine.”  
“Oh?”  
“Let’s just say I met Gwendolyn’s blade before I met her.”  
Olva laughed. “Not often I get to talk to a person who can say that! So I’m guessing you’re still alive because? Or do I want to know?”  
Tilgitt waved his hand. “I’m alive off of pure mercy.”  
Varna’s expression went back to concern. “Why did she want to hurt you?”  
“Looong story.”  
“How long?”  
“About 200 years.”  
Varna laughed, earning a ‘hold still’ from the older woman. “Maybe for another time, then?”  
He returned the grin. “Agreed.”  
Olva tied off the end of the braid, smiling at her handiwork. “You look like a warrior now, very nice! Speaking of, have you chosen your weapons?”  
Varna only sheepishly pointed to the dual axes on the table.

When the knocks sounded, Til almost flew out of his chair to get it. The scholar’s robes almost tripping him up, he managed to stick the landing and swing open the door.  
“Lucien!”  
“Hello Tilgitt. Have you learned what you can from the books?” Lucien slid past him into the house, offering a formal smile to the inhabitants.  
“Yes. I’ve discovered which spells she knows and how to combat them.”  
He nodded, allowing space for the others to fill in behind him. “How do we combat them, then?”  
Olva grinned evilly. “Swooords.”  
Tilgitt tried not to trip over his words. “Well, she’s completely right. Gwen will summon the dead and the way we know to fight them is...well….the old-fashioned way.”  
Lucien nodded again, turning his attention to the sack of steel hauled against the bed.  
“Do I want to know where these came from?”  
Olva shook her head, giggling. “No, not exactly!”  
“Fair enough. I won’t ask.”  
“Good choice.”  
Serana impatiently tapped her foot on the floor, looking over the list. “We don’t have everyone. We need everyone to gather before we can march. Is everyone armed? Where’s our new friend?”  
Olva’s grin spread. “Oh, everyone’s here in the city. Let me worry about that, child. As for our friend, he is downstairs. We’ll be ready.”  
She stopped tapping her foot. “Everyone is in the city? Everyone?”  
“Yes,” The old woman nodded. “I can be quite convincing when I need to be. Everyone is here.”  
\--  
12am.

_“Siiiister!”  
The maniacal giggling echoed off the nonexistent walls._

_“Why do you taunt me so? So close, yet so far! Is it possibly, fear? Does fear tear you from me, dear sister?”_

_Serana swiveled in the pitch black room, looking for the source._

_“...Gwen?”_

_“You hesitate!” The giggling resumed. “Do you not think it is me? I assure you it is!”_

_“Gwen, where are you?”_

_Suddenly, two gaping holes of light opened in front of her._

_“If you don’t know, you should try finding me.” The lilt in her voice let on her mischievous intentions. “I think you know how~.” The lilt turned into singing reminiscent of Cicero._

_Serana backed up, suddenly hyper-aware of her fear of the once-familiar voice. “Are you trying to…?”_

_The giggling began again._

_“Again, hesitation~.”_

_Serana shot up in a cold sweat, whipping the blanket off her shoulders. She held her hand to her chest, trying to calm the frantic breathing._  
\--  
1am

_“Hello, Cicero. You have a question for me. I can tell.”_

_She stood on the edge of a ledge, overlooking a lush landscape. A waterfall cascaded below her, but the noise seemed muffled and far away. Every color was grey, the entire world only defined by shades. Her black hair blew in the wind, and white dress followed in the same motion._

_Her back was turned towards him, staring out into the scenery._

_She broke the almost-silence. “Which do you fear more?”_

_At this, she unclasped her hands and dropped them, revealing the blood streaming down them and onto her dress._

_“The question?”_

_With a tilt of her head over her shoulder, he saw the icy blue, a beacon of color against the world of grey._

_“Or the answer?”_

_Before he could choke out any more words, she stepped off the ledge, and disappeared into the water._  
—  
2am

_“Lucien, wake up!”_

_His eyes opened, finding that he was already standing. She stood in front of him, eerie blue eyes staring in worry._

_“Please, Lucien, don’t do this.”  
“What?!” He stammered. “Listener, what do you mean?”_

_This was her house, but it was empty. The torches in this room were lit, but the torches out stretching into the hallway were dark._

_“Don’t save me. Don’t do this.”  
“I can’t do that, Listener. You know I can’t.”  
Her voice became fierce with angry desperation. “Don’t save me! That’s an order!”  
He glared at her. “It’s an order you aren’t here to give! I refuse!”  
She backed up, running her fingers through her hair. “And if I hurt you? By the gods Lucien, if I kill you? What then?”  
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”  
“It’s not a chance I’M willing to take! Are you listening?!”  
“Listener, I’m sorry but I cannot give you a choice!”  
“You promised me you would take CARE of yourself!”  
“And my first promise to you was that I would PROTECT YOU!”  
“I NEVER ASKED YOU TO MAKE THAT PROMISE!” Her voice became hoarse with the scream._

_Lucien quieted down._

_She anxiously paced around the room, balling up her fists and shaking her head.  
“I can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you. Lucien, I cannot hurt you.”  
He let go of his anger, releasing the tension in his shoulders. “Gwendolyn, come here.”  
She stopped pacing, and carefully approached him.  
“Maybe it wasn’t a promise you asked for, but it still stands. And even if you did hurt me, I would always forgive you.”  
She frowned deeply, and turned away from him. Stopping in the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder.  
“Maybe, but can I forgive myself?”  
Without another word, she disappeared into the shadows. _

Lucien growled underneath his breath, rubbing his eyes. He was leaned on his hand at the table, some book he didn’t remember sitting in front of him. Serana had her hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.  
He dragged his hand across his face. “This is the worst.”  
She gave a dark chuckle. “Something we agree on then, ghost? Come on, stand up. We’ve got places to be.”  
“Like where?”  
“Like a tomb.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ew, was that emotions? disgusting

“We’re going to wake everybody?”  
“No, we’re going to wake Olva. She's going to wake everybody."  
Lucien tapped the old woman on the shoulder, and she immediately smiled, opening one eye.  
“Oh loves, how did I know that you would begin at 4 in the morning? What was my life without you?”  
“Probably more regulated.”  
“No, my dear, less fun.” She stood up, sheathing the large greatsword on her back. “Okay, I’m the one who brought the army. Give me a pot, a pan, and your best smile. I’ll be ready when you are.”  
Cicero grinned for her. “Cicero knows where the kitchen is. He’ll be right back.”

Serana smiled, but she had tears running down her face. Her bittersweet laugh came choked out, and she quickly wrapped her arms around the old woman’s shoulders.  
“Please Olva, please don’t die out there. I know she won't mean it, but it doesn't mean she won't."  
“Oh, sweetheart, look at me.” She gave Serana a squeeze, and held her by her shoulders. “I may not be immortal, but I am very, very hard to kill.” She winked. “Same rules apply to you three. No dying, you hear? I don’t wanna have to repeat this process.”   
Serana nodded with a laugh. “I think we can manage that.”  
She chuckled, taking the pot and pan from the smiling jester. “Cover your ears.”  
They complied.  
Olva marched around the house, chanting names and banging them together. “TILGITT. VARNA. BRYN-SOMETHING. WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UUUUP.”  
A chorus of groans greeted her, and she lowered her hands to her sides. Tilgitt’s glare was enough to send her giggling, and she cast a mischievous look over her shoulder.  
“Think that’ll work on the city?”  
Lucien grimaced, slowly uncovering his ears. “Yeah, it will. Let’s hope they’re still willing to march after that.”  
“I’m noooot.”  
“You’re coming either way, Til.”  
“Fiiine.”  
Olva smiled, singsong voice trailing her out the door. “Meet you all at the gate! Bring your battle faces!”  
Brynjolf stood up from the corner, straightening his armor. “So we begin? I didn’t expect this time of day, but I understand the haste.”  
“None of us expected this time of day.” Serana took her dagger from the nightstand. “Except Gwendolyn.”  
“I… won’t ask.”  
“Good choice.”  
Lucien pulled his hood over his head, and stalked toward the door. “It’s time to go. Is everyone ready?”  
“Are we ever going to be? Just go, Lucien. No more waiting.”  
He simply nodded, and left, companions trailing after him.

\--

4:30am, and the Riften gate was gathered with a random assortment of fighters. _What an...odd sight._ Lucien glanced at the group, noticing the different classes. Mages, warriors, rogues, there was not too many of one. 

_“Second, diversity within the teams. One axe-wielding maniac isn’t going to cut it. We need swords, axes, daggers, staffs, magic. This is the war to end all wars.”_

His own voice echoed back in his head, and he suddenly remembered the Jarl’s notes on what he had said.

“War to end all wars. With the Dragon herself.” Lucien chuckled. “Oh Gwendolyn, how could I have known?”

He approached the gate, stepping to the door. Olva stood in front of her congregation, casting a glance at him.  
“Decided to show up, did you?”  
“Not much of an option. Giving a few words to the army?”  
“Ab-so-lutely. Care to listen?”  
He gestured to the waiting crowd and folded his hands.

Olva began.

“Let’s get this straight. I don’t give a damn if you’re a good fighter. Not. A. Damn. You are here because,” She pointed vigorously to the direction of their destination. “THAT girl means something to you. She could’ve saved your life, she could’ve smiled at you, I don’t care about that either. I want you to TAKE THAT. I want you to hold onto it.” She brought her fist up. “I want you to hold onto that sliver of her like it’s the last thing you’ve got. Because it’s going to keep you alive. When you’re faced with zombies! With traps! With death! I want you to stare it in the face and SPIT! I don’t care if a dragon lands right in front of you, you SPIT IN ITS FACE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

A deafening roar rose up from the crowd.

“That’s RIGHT! A dragon lands and you spit because they made her a MARTYR! They made your beloved dragonborn nothing but a spark and now they’re going to feel her FIRE! We are NOT going to accept a martyr today! ARE YOU WITH ME?!”

Another roar erupted from the fighters, and Lucien grinned despite himself. Olva’s war cry was inspiring, and she led the charge out of Riften, sword high in the air.  
\--

 

The Tomb.

By the gods, it had been so long since he’d seen it. But now its looming presence shot turmoil into his veins, and he was anxious to go inside. Its carvings of dragons and fire and swirls and swords were so ominous and he wanted anything to stop examining them.  
The whistle of the air brought him out of his trance.

“Lucien…?” Serana coughed. Eyes towards the sky. “You hear that?”

He frowned. “Yes. I do.”

Turning toward the army, he cast his eyes over them and glared.

“Do you all remember the instructions you were given?”

Their eyes were also towards the sky, but they nodded at him.

Olva’s dark chuckle permeated through the still air. “In case of dragons...Spit.” With an easy slide, she stepped to Lucien’s side and thrust her sword in the air, war cry echoing through the forest.  
The man Lucien recognized from the river was the first to raise his weapon in response. A large nordic battleaxe.

“FOR THE _MARTYR!_ ”

The battle began as soon as its talons touched the ground. 

 

Sharp, black talons, and bloody copper scales. Its malicious green eyes pierced into them, but it did not take their resolve away. 

A flurry of arrows. Slashes, strikes, and screams. They tore its wings and stabbed its chest, pouring all of their rage and grief into it. Dragons are what took her away, and they would not take her away again. Dragon’s blood was the only to mark their armor. It couldn’t land a hit, flailing wildly to all sides, trying in vain to defend itself. But it could not, as attacks rained on all sides. They hit anywhere they could land, aiming for the eyes, the claws, the wings. They screamed, pulled, swung their weapons with all of their might, and Lucien swore he saw for a split second, the dragon’s fear.   
The dragon’s death roar was filled with anger and pain and it brought him great joy to see it fall.

They had brought it down. Faster...than anticipated.

Cicero was the first to make any noise after the silence of its death. A single, maniacal chuckle, filled with all his grief and sadness.  
“That was for Gwendolyn, you bastard.”  
Serana threw her arm over his shoulder, squeezing him and laughing. “Yeah it was.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and marched on towards the door.

\--

“If there was any doubt she’s been waiting for us, I think we know now.” Tilgitt removed his blade from a corpse’s skull. “Where did she get all of these people?”  
Varna swung her axe at a corpse approaching her. “Please, do not ask.”  
“We’re getting close.”  
“How can you tell?”  
He grimaced. “I can feel it. It’s like her presence echoes off the walls. Also, we’re approaching the largest room here. Where else would she be?”

Lucien stared at the door.

(Song: Between the Bars, by Elliot Smith. If you only listen to one song in this series, let it be this.)

_“Lucien, hey lo...look at me.”  
“Gods, Listener, no, no,no! Hang on! Don’t do this to me.”_

_Her crimson smile spilled onto her armor. He hesitated to wipe it away, to lose any moment he had left._

_“We’re losing her, oh god we’re losing her!” Serana held her shaky hands over the hole in Gwendolyn’s stomach. “Lucien, stay with her!” She was choking on her tears trying to stop the blood._

_“Lucien, look at me.”  
He cradled her head, rocking her back and forth, his tears soaking her shirt.  
“Lucien, I…” she coughed, and blood shot out of her mouth. “I love you. You know tha..that?”  
He nodded, voice cracking. “I know, Gwendolyn, I know. I love you too. Hang on, okay? You’re gonna be okay. Shhhh...don’t talk.”_

_She slowly brought up her hand, and wiped away his tears._

_“Pretty brown eyes…”_

_He sobbed louder, bringing her head to his chest. “Gwendolyn, please don’t leave me. Please please don’t leave me.”_

_She lowered her hand, stretching it out to meet her sister’s. Serana took it and crouched, shoulders shaking with her cries. The dying girl’s faded yellow eyes met hers, and Serana nodded._

_“I love you too, Gwendolyn. I love you too.” Serana cried._

_Lucien wiped his thumb on her cheek, feeling his chest twist in pain.  
“I...did it, Lucien.”  
“You did. You absolutely did. You’re my savior twice over, my dear.”  
Her bittersweet smile shot sorrow into his heart. “I’m your...savior?”  
“You’re my savior, Gwendolyn. You’ve saved me and everyone else.”  
She squeezed Serana’s hand, and leaned into his chest.  
“...Savior.”_

_Her hand fell._

Lucien stared at the door.

“Serana.”

“Lucien?”

He glanced over his shoulder, gaze almost concealed by his hood.

“Let’s become her savior.”


	26. Maiden, Mother, Martyr

_If I could go 200 years back, tell my old self where I’d be now..._

The room stood unlit, until row by row, the torch sconces lit up in magical flame. The fire headed toward them an intimidating pace, illuminating the soon-to-be battleground. It stretched in front of them, the untouched stone reminding them where they were, and the intricate carvings of dragons reminding them who this place belonged to. _Theatrical as always, my Listener._

“Every fight she’s ever fought, every skill she’s ever learned, every strike, every strafe, every strategy,” Lucien stepped forward. “All of it. Locked in the phantom of who you once knew.”  
He held his gaze locked on the empty coffin in front of him, feeling the walls emanate with the unyielding presence. She was waiting, biding her time until one of them made the first move.  
The air chilled.

Rising out of the coffin, she turned to face her prey like the predator she was. Her undone hair swirled around her, her hands twisted into angry claws. Her hollow eyes stared directly through him as he faced what could only be a nightmare. As he tightened his grip on his weapon, he tried to forget who the face belonged to.

Cicero’s voice faltered behind him in a quiet whisper. “Listener…”  
“That isn’t the Listener, Cicero. Not yet it isn’t.” He frowned over his shoulder. “Not yet.”  
Cicero grimly nodded.

 

The ghost rose her hand, a malicious grin spread over her barely recognizable face.

_I once used to believe you were too innocent, too naive, too kind to be an assassin. To lead the guild of murder. To be the chosen child of the Matron.  
Now I see you were always capable. It was whether or not you chose to prove it. _

A spike of ice formed in her hand, and she threw it forward, skimming Tilgitt’s shoulder. He swerved, only his sleeve taking the hit. It was the signal that the battle had begun.

_“Hello again, Lucien.”_  
“Hello Listener. Do you need assistance?”  
Her laughter echoed. “I’m stuck.” 

Lucien raised his eyes to meet the hollows of hers, pushing back the emotion it brought forth. She formed a spectral dagger in her hand and rushed towards him, baring her teeth in a feral snarl. He easily dodged her but sent her to the army behind him. They began launching arrows and swinging their weapons, but he could tell their fight was thick with grief.

“Come back to us, Listener.” He brought his blades to his hands and ran towards the shell.

_“Oh come on, like you’ve never used a stove before? I know they had those in the ancient times.” She cast a glance over her shoulder. “They...did, right?”  
“Did you just call me ancient?”_

She opened her jaw, letting out a fractured scream of agony. Someone had shoved their sword through her stomach. Her frenzied shriek turned into a targeted shout, and she had sent 3 people flying to the wall. Another scream erupted as an arrow stuck itself in her shoulder, but she kept fighting.

_“It’s burning! Is it burning? Can you see it? Oh gosh, is it burning?”_  
He laughed deeply. “No, it’s fine, Listener. It’s not done yet.”  
She nodded, relieved. Suddenly, she raised a spoonful of batter, mischievous glint in her eye. 

The ghost turned to face him again, ignoring the soldiers below her. She placed a hand on the hilt and screamed as she ripped it out and flew towards him with it. It sliced above his head as he ducked, and his right dagger buried itself where her heart might’ve been. This close, he swore he could see her chest rising and falling with the effort.

_“You act all stoic and suave, but underneath I know you’re soft. You can’t lie to me, Lachance.”_  
“Suave, hmm?”  
“Don’t make that face.” 

Removing his dagger, he swung again, but she had recovered from the hits and shouted. Another “Fus!” and a panicked “Lucien!” sent him to the wall behind. He felt his spine hit the stone, head reverberating with the impact, but she still came after him. The mercy he had known before was not present here.

As he raised his head to his attacker, an ice spike struck her through the throat. Serana’s blurry figure stood behind her, magic at the ready.  
“Lucien, run!” He could hear the crack in her voice. To have to shoot your own sister. Not even I could have done that.  
She readied herself to shout at him again, preparing to bury him in the rubble, but only a pained gargle came out of her. The spike was blocking her ethereal vocal cords, giving him just enough time. He scrambled to his feet and watched as the spike quickly melted in her anger, dripping down her collarbone. Melting?  
His breath caught, realizing what she was about to do.  
“TAKE COVER!” He grabbed Cicero’s sleeve, yanking them both behind a pillar.


	27. Say Goodbye

_My Speaker, let me go._  
He pressed his back into the wall, backing out of sight from his opponent. The tomb was covered in blood and flames, and the echo of metal and magic filled the room.  
“What?”  
 _Please, let me go._  
He stared incredulously at nothing. “Absolutely not!”  
 _You have to move on if you are to live, my love._  
“Never. How….How dare you suggest that I…?!”  
 _Lucien._  
“NO!”  
 _Listen to me, Lucien._  
“I WON’T! Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!” He turned his grieving fury towards the ghost in time to see it slash Cicero’s side. “NO!”  
 _Let me go NOW, Speaker! That is an ORDER._  
“It’s an order YOU AREN’T HERE TO GIVE!”  
 _Lucien PLEASE. You have to let me go!_  
He stared into the merciless eyes of her face, screaming. “I WILL NOT LET YOU DIE!”  
 _Then you are too late._

The room laid silent.

_Lucien Lachance, if for once in your life you ever loved me, you will say goodbye._

“Please, please don’t leave me again.”

_I am sorry. Goodbye, Lucien._

He collapsed to his knees. The silence in his mind was killing him. Even as he watched the phantom approach, readying her bow to finish the job, he felt nothing.  
As far as he was concerned, he had already lost.

She shifted toward him. _My final killer. I never thought it would be you, my Listener._

He closed his eyes. “I am sorry I have failed you. A true assassin only sees a target, but I could never make you mine.”

The whistle of the arrow flew towards him, but he felt nothing. Have I already died?

 

 

“And to think, all the other arrows weren’t enough.”


	28. Savior

His eyes flew open, staring no longer into the abyss, but looking up to see the shade of blue he hated the most.

She stood in front of him, spectral and ethereal, paying no mind to the arrow in her chest. Her bright eyes trained onto her twin across the room, holding an unexpected benevolence.

“Li….Li….List…”  
“Give me a moment, dear.”  
One hand stretched behind her, protecting him from her own spirit. One hand reached in front of her, reaching gently towards the weapon-wielding phantom. The phantom stopped advancing, but still stood to protect itself from her.  
“Come here. You know me. Come,” She beckoned the ghost forward. “You may not know anyone else, but you know me.”  
The phantom lowered its defenses and slowly approached her, hesitating to reach its hand out.  
“That’s right, come to me. Come here. I am safe.”  
It inched forward.  
“Listener, wait! It needs to be weakened before-!”  
She cast a glance over her shoulder. “You don’t need weakness. You need compliance.” She turned her attention back to the skittish spirit. “Come to me, child. Give me your rage. Share your pain with me.”

He watched the phantom get closer to her, hollow eyes granting her their hesitating trust. The once-furious claws gently placed themselves in her open hand, and in a flash, they fused together. She came to be herself again, lowering the bloodied claws. Her ethereal glow cast a halo around him, and he felt all he could do was stare.

“I believe this is where you come in, my dear.”

He shook his head and launched up. “Where is he?! Where’s the elf!?” Tilgitt! TILGITT!”  
A shaky hand raised from the corner, followed by a groan of pain. Both Lucien and the ghost’s head turned to follow the noise, and found the elf slumped over against a wall.  
“Oh Til, I am so sorry.” She rose her hands, swirling golden light around her palms. “I am so, so sorry.”  
He gave a pained chuckle. “Save the apologies for when the fight is over, Dragonborn. Need a portal?” He threw his hand in front of him. Within seconds, a warbling door to Serana’s lab was open, and Til scraped his way up. Once he was on his feet, he turned his head back.  
“Get the others! We’re gonna need all of the pieces to pull this off! Got that? Go!” His hand hovered over a cut on his shoulder. Lucien nodded quickly, head swiveling to find his fallen friends.  
“Keeper? Keeper where are you?! Cicero!”  
Where Cicero had fallen, he stayed. He did not move.  
“No, no no no. Cicero?” He slid next to him, checking his pulse. “Thank Sithis, he’s alive. Just unconscious. Can you…?”  
The ghost was struggling to hold her essence together, but nonetheless she brought her hand to his forehead.  
“Listen to my voice, Keeper. Let me go. I’m right here, you’re okay. Let me go…”  
He hesitated to watch the exchange, but a flash passed through her eyes, and she raised her hand.  
“Is he going to wake up?”  
“Soon. Give him time. For now, where is Serana?”  
Lucien looked around the battlefield. People lay strewn about, but none with the distinct armor of the vampire. She was nowhere to be found.  
“I can’t see her.”  
The ghost’s face contorted in pain. She wasn’t going to hold much longer. “Hurry. Find her. I have something I need to do.”  
“What could you possibly need to do right now?”  
“FIND her, Lucien.” Her hands were clenching.  
He frowned in worry but sped out into the tunnels.

She sighed, looking out onto the battlefield. People were strewn about, weapons inches from their hands.  
“I am so sorry, this is my fault…”  
_Please don’t be dead._  
“LAAS!”  
She watched in relief as everybody began to glow, life force emanating before her eyes.  
“Gods bless you, my warriors!” She darted over to Varna, curling her healing light. The young girl’s eyes fluttered open. “Hello dear, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for your help yet again.”  
Varna nodded silently, pushing herself up.  
“Get these people out. As fast as you can.” Another nod.  
She shifted to the next able person. “Move the injured! Get them away from me! Please!” With every person she healed, they picked up another and sped out the tunnel.

Finally, she sat quietly, alone in her own coffin room. Digging her nails into the stone, distracting herself from the rage.  
“Please. By the gods, please. Don’t tell me I started this over.”

“Gwendolyn?”  
The ghost raised her head, meeting the eyes of her vampire.  
“You...You’re…”  
_Hesitation~._  
“HURRY!”  
Serana flew forward, grabbing her wrist and closing her eyes. “I’ve got you this time, Gwen.” She put her hand on her friend’s ethereal heart. “Apologize in advance for this, though.”  
The ghost flew back, ice spike driven through her chest, but she nodded in pain. “Forgiven.”  
“Til, now!”  
She stepped back to reveal the elf jumping out of his portal, body in tow.

He pointed a staff at her. “See you soon, Dragonborn.”  
The blast struck her in the abdomen and dragged her forward. The body carefully laid on the floor shot up, floated above the ground, absorbing her essence back where it belonged. Her ghost was sucked back in, and with as much grace as one could have during this, she landed back on her feet.

Serana’s eyes were watering, and her voice wobbled in her laughter when Gwen fell back onto the ground. Tilgitt wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Listener..?”  
Gwen looked up to see Lucien in the doorway of the room, look of shock written on his face.  
She whispered, voice hoarse with lack of use.

 

“You’re alive...”  
“So are you, my dear.”

 

“Gwen, I’m not entirely sure how to mention this, but you’re..uh.” Serana coughed. “Your diet has changed.”


	29. Rebirth

The able ones sped about outside the tomb, tending to the injured. They laid splayed out on the grass, most enjoying the sun that had risen.

“Never really thought I was gonna see that again…” Olva chuckled, staring up at the sky.  
“The sunrise? Aren’t you supposed to be resting, old woman?” Varna chuckled, holding the bandages in her hand. “Hush, and hold still.”  
“YOU hush, do you hear that?”  
“No, stop moving!”  
Olva waved her off, pushing herself off the ground and turning towards the corpse of the dragon. She vigorously pointed towards it, using Varna for stability. “LOOK!”

The corpse had begun to disappear into threads of light, and everyone’s focus turned towards it in amazement. The sound of the light weaving together and flying into the tomb drew their attention to…

Olva grinned in pride, and with the assistance of her sword, kneeled down on the ground. She bowed her head at the figure in the doorway, and everyone followed suit.

“Welcome back, Dragonborn.”

 

 

Thank you for reading Begin Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!! If you have ANY questions at all about Void Dweller or Begin Again, PLEASE send me an ask!! Tell me how you feel! Tell me who's your favorite! Tell me your favorite lines! Tell me I'm absolutely bonkers for writing this! I love feedback and I love talking, so feel free! I hope you guys have enjoyed this emotional roller coaster as much as I did!  
> (And for those of you who are somehow STILL here, yes, I'm an addict, I will most likely put out a book 3. A certain tall lady will probably be joining the party.)


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